Christmas with the Joneses
by Battered notebook of stories
Summary: Happy Holidays! Join Indy, Marion, Mutt, and Ox as they celebrate Christmas 1957. Chapter 10 now up. Marion's party is in full swing, and Indy finally gets a chance to take out the little blue box...
1. Chapter 1

Indiana Jones

I swear to God I will kill that son of a bitch with my bare hands.

I'll admit he's tough for an old guy, but if I see one tear on my mother's face I will hunt him down and take him out.

OK, maybe I'll make him suffer first.

He was supposed to spend Christmas here with me, Mom and Ox in Chicago.

It's fucking Christmas Eve and I went to meet his train.

'Cause I'm a nice guy, you know? And because if we're gonna be a family, that's what family does.

He wasn't at the station and trust me I would have found him- I've done it before. I'm his son. Well, only in one sense. Stand my mother up and you're through, old man. I've got news for you _Professor_- the way I see it my _father_ was the man who was there for my mama and me. He would never have left us if he hadn't been killed in the war. I was proud to be Colin Williams' son before I knew you existed and it looks like that's the way it's gonna be from now on. I just wish my mother's heart wasn't gonna break for you. Again.

Now Christmas Eve is a busy night at The Raven, the restaurant and bar my mother owns half of. 'Raven' doesn't have anything to do with Edgar Allen Poe; it's from 'Ravenwood', her maiden name. Get it? They close early on Christmas Eve, and then re-open to serve a free dinner to whoever comes in. Some of the faculty from the University of Chicago help cook and serve- it's sort of a charity thing.

We get some nice people who are down on their luck. And the dopers, boozers, call girls and hookers. I don't think the good people from Squaresville really understand who they're serving here. And who am I to tell them?

Mom says the call girls usually don't work Christmas Eve, because most of the men who can afford them will be keeping up appearances with their families. The lower-rent girls who work the bars or the streets will be pretty busy, though. The world is full of lonely men, she says, and Christmas Eve is a time where they go looking for a little comfort and a chance to forget they're alone. I have gotta say we are not the Nelsons-I don't know anybody else whose mother knows about hookers-let alone talks to him about this stuff.

So, even without Indy, I figure I better get back and start helping out. I walk in, Mom looks at me, and her eyes flick away when she sees I'm alone. She squares her shoulders and presses her lips together- and smiles even brighter at the people she's talking with. I've started to call that her 'I'll cry tomorrow' look. I never used to notice it when I was a kid, but now that I'm a man I do. And I remember how many times I've seen it before.

My mama is one sweet lady but she's tough as nails too- it was me and her against the world for a long time. That bastard Jones can't throw one damn thing at us that we can't handle together. I just wish we didn't have to. I'm such an idiot- I thought he really loved her. Well my Mom was smarter than that- when he asked her to marry him she said that if he wanted her, he'd have to prove that we could trust him. Yeah, he's proved something all right.

Harold Oxley, my second father, is helping set up the tables. He looks up, sees I'm alone and his eyes widen. I pull him aside to get him on the QT. "He wasn't at the station, Ox", I say real softly. "I was there for a long time. It was the last train, man. I don't think he's gonna show."

If the Ox was a swearing kind of guy he would have said 'Oh, _shit_' right about then.

But he's not, so he just gives me a sober look.

"Maybe something happened. I'm sure Henry meant to come…" Ox begins.

"Yeah, Ox", I say, making sure I play it cool; keep it light. "I'm sure he meant everything he said to me and Mom. At least at the time. But y'know, some guys …." I shake my head and let my voice trail off. It doesn't quaver-I'm proud of that. I sound like a man, just tellin' it like it is about another man. And hey, if my eyes sting just a little, regretting the father I didn't know I had, well, nobody has to see. _Atta way, Mutt-boy_ I tell myself. Never let 'em see you sweat. Just like your mama never lets 'em see her cry.

Much as I love Ox, he can be pretty oblivious sometimes. If anything happened to Indy, it was probably some Sweet Thing in a tight sweater who'd _do anything_ _for a better grade, Dr. Jones_. I'm serious- Mom and I spent a week with him up in Connecticut last fall and I've been back to visit. You would not _believe _the goo-goo eyes that some chicks my age make at the old fossil. It would be pathetic if it wasn't so nauseating. I mean I'm younger, maybe not as tall but way better looking, and I was standing _right there_…

Speaking of standing right there… oh, crap. It's Frankenstein, making a beeline for Mom. No, his name's really not Frankenstein, it's 'Dr. Franklin Pierce Thompson' if you please. He works with Ox at University of Chicago, teaches cultural anthropology. I'd never admit it to the guys but I actually know what that is and it's pretty interesting. Or it could be if _he_ wasn't teaching it.

Anyway, Frankenstein's been eyeing my mama for awhile and man, he's got it _bad_.

I'm a guy, I know what he's up to-he's not here tonight to serve a dinner, he's just here because he wants to see her. Before we went to Peru, she went out to dinner with him a few times. Since we came back she's pretty much blown him off, on account of getting back together with my Da- with Indy, I mean. _That may have been a mistake, Mom._

Frankie's a blowhard, a pompous ass and a general _pain_ in the ass but after tonight I may reconsider him. I mean, I'm practically on my own now, so if he sticks around I'd only have to put up with him on holidays. _Holidays,_ you know, like this one-when people are supposed to _show up when they say they will._

Tonight, at least _one _of the men in Mom's life is gonna be there for her.

If she wants to go straight home after we close, I'm driving and I'm not leaving her alone. If anybody asks, hey- I'll just say _I _forgot something or Mom wants me to shave, and we'll swing by the church later. If Mom wants to go to that midnight service with Ox- no matter how boring I happen to think it its, I'm gonna be right there beside her holding her hand.

So, OK, if we do make midnight mass I may try to say 'hi' to Tina Capoletti. She'll probably be there with her folks. Tina's back from college for Christmas, and I'm telling you, only a dead guy would miss a chance to make a little time with her. Tina's a sweetheart anyway, and then those big brown eyes and that smile-man, oh man, oh _man._ Not to mention the rest of her, which is_ real_ easy on the eyes. And you know, Mr. C may not give me the evil eye when I come around if he sees me in a sport coat and tie for once. But that should be 15 minutes tops-the rest of the night belongs to my mama.

Ox and a bunch of the other UC faculty are all getting their aprons on now; ready to serve at this wing-ding. Mom keeps them in front at the buffet line which is probably a good thing. Personally I wouldn't trust half of those geezers in the kitchen where there are, y'know, sharp knives. They might hurt themselves. The only prof I've ever seen or heard of who can handle himself worth jack in a fight is my D-. Nuh-uh. Not going _there_.

Anyway we usually set up one of the banquet rooms as a kind of locker area for the volunteers. The Profs hang up their nice suits and shirts. Mom and the wives have pretty dresses to change into if they are going to church after we close. I stop in to hang up my leather jacket and I notice something. There's a tweed sport coat and a pair of brown slacks hanging up by Mom's outfit. They weren't there when I left. A BIG pair of man's wingtips is on the floor next to Mom's pumps. Indy's got big feet like mine. Or maybe I have big feet like his. And there's a shirt, a big one, hanging next to the slacks. A very familiar looking bow tie is sticking out of the pocket..

.


	2. Chapter 2

Well, I'll be _damned_. I'll be god_damned_. That sneaky _bastard_-he's here.

He's _here_. I don't know whether to punch his lights out for making me worry or punch the air with relief because at least my mama won't be crying tonight. Or just pop him one on general principles because I'm sure that somewhere at some point he's done something to deserve it.

So I decide I'm gonna head for the kitchen where Jose Luis, the second shift cook, and his wife, Lupe, are holding the fort. Dish duty, my favorite thing ever, is calling my name.

I look, but I don't see Indy out in front so I find the Ox instead. Ox is still serving so I mutter into his ear. "Indy's here, Ox. (Yeah, sometimes I call him 'Dad' but I'm still too pissed for that). Or at least his clothes are. Have you seen him?"

Ox shakes his head 'no.'

I get to the kitchen and there he is, Professor Henry Jones Junior, wearing an old pair of chinos and a white t- shirt. Well it used to be white, anyway. He's washing the dishes with Jose Luis and they're talking in Spanish. I can't follow everything they say, but from the way Jose Luis is cracking up I think Indy just told a dirty joke. It must have been pretty salty, because Lupe smacks them both as she goes by- she gets Indy on the arm and Jose Luis on the butt- and says it's a holy night and bad boys like them should show more respect. Jose Luis says he'll show her _plenty _of respect when they get home, and Indy snorts. I figure that's as good an entrance cue as any.

"Hola" I say and walk into the kitchen.

I put on an apron and some gloves and get in between Indy and Jose Luis. Soon we've got a regular assembly line going-Indy washes, I rinse, Jose Luis dries, and Lupe puts away. We clear out the prep dishes and start making serious inroads on the plates and cups that keep coming from the front.

"So what are you doing back here?" I ask Indy.

"I actually worked in a restaurant when I was going to the University of Chicago with Ox," he says with a chuckle. "But I was a really, really, lousy waiter. Half of the time I'd end up washing dishes anyway, so I figured I'd come back here and make myself useful."

"Seen Mom yet?"

"I saw her, but she was talking to someone when I came in so I'm not sure she saw me."

"Oh really, who?"

"Guy about late 40s, early 50s. Tall, blue blazer, grey slacks." Indy presses his lips together like he does when he has to say something he'd rather not.

"I figured Marion might have a man in her life stateside. That him?"

_Frankenstein. Oh, great. _"Hey, I'll be honest with you. I'll bet that was Frankenstein-Dr. Franklin Pierce Thompson, I mean. He works with the Ox so we have to be nice to him.I wouldn't call him the man in Mom's life exactly, but he likes her -a lot. He tries to make time with her every chance he gets."

_I_ndy digests this unwelcome news in silence. But I'm just layin' it on the line, y'know? He's got competition and that's a fact. If this guy wants my mama he can goddamn well fight for her. But it's Christmas Eve, so I decide to throw him a crumb. I'm a nice guy, remember?_  
_

"Now as far as I know, Mom hasn't seen him, you know _seen _seen him, like _alone, _since we got back from Peru. But he's doing his best to change that, and if you hadn't shown up tonight he might have succeeded."

"What made you think I wouldn't show up tonight?" _Oh, I dunno, just a whole lot of history, Daddy-O._

"I was gonna give you a ride here" I say, trying to keep it light. "I didn't find you at the station."

He looks down at the sink full of soapy water. So help me God, Indiana Jones is _embarrassed._

"I, aah, turned my grades in early and I didn't want to wait around, so I hit New York Sunday night, did some shopping Monday, and took the Streamliner express Monday afternoon. I swung by the house but you'd all left already. When I got here everyone was busy and I didn't want to be underfoot so I found my _compadre _Jose Luis and he put me to work. Ox said you usually go to midnight mass after this?"

"Yeah, Ox is Church of England, but it's a pretty service-lots of carols and stuff. A ton of people we know go to midnight mass. So, you coming?

He nods. "I was planning on it. If your mother still wants to."

Then the dishes start rolling in as people finish eating. But with four of us, it really isn't bad and sooner then you'd think we're done. Jose Luis volunteers to do the mopping so Lupe can change. Hey, Christmas Eve _is_ a magical time.

Indy wipes his hands on his chinos, and turns to me. "Let's go find your mother" he says, trying not to look too eager. He's failing, but I don't have to tell him that.

I cut out in front of him just to make sure that the coast is clear. I'm pretty sure I can do without an old-guy grudge match between Indy and Frankenstein over my mother.

Not on Christmas Eve.

The office is up on a little mezzanine over the bar. When I get up the stairs, Mom is in the hall by the office giving the last few employees envelopes with their Christmas bonuses .

I may as well have a little fun with this. I cruise down the hall and lean on the doorframe, cool and slow.

"You know Mom", I say, and shake my head, "I don't know what this world is coming to anymore. Parents are supposed to be setting a good example for the younger generation and helping us resist, you know, temptation and Elvis."

Then I let myself crack up. "But I found this guy in the kitchen with Jose Luis who says he's going home with you!" Indy turns the corner behind me and smiles at her.

Mom smiles back-not her 'I'm being charming' smile, but a real genuine smile that lights up her face. And the rest of the building. It's like all the other people in here just dropped off the face of the earth, and he's the only thing she sees.

"It's good to see you, Indy," she says. But her chin is the tiniest bit trembly and I can see she thought he stood us up, just like I did. I'll give Indy credit-he sees it too. He takes one long stride across the hall and just_ grabs_ her and pulls her in tight. He says something in her ear-I don't catch everything but I'm pretty sure that _missed you_ and _honey _and _counting the days_ were in there, and she starts to relax.

Like I said, Mom is so tough that sometimes you forget how little she really is. She doesn't look very big now, nestled into Indy's chest with his arms wrapped around her and his chin on her head. I have _gotta_ figure out how he gets her to fold up like that- Tina's kind of little, too, and I could see that trick coming in handy over the next week or so…

"Hey, Shoulder High" Indy says, and tips up her chin. I thought he was gonna give her a polite Ozzie and Harriet sort of smooch, and that's how it starts out- but then you can just see the thought bubble over his head. He's thinking _God, I missed her_, and _I don't care_ _who the hell is watching._ So his hands spread out and he bends her back a little and before you know it, it's a full-on, down-to-business, let's-you-and-me-find-a-nice-private-spot-real-soon-baby, capital-K Kiss_. I'm _not gonna get one of those tonight, even if Mr. C lets me walk Tina around the church to see the Live Nativity. Oh, _brother._ There's something _seriously _wrong when a guy's old man is getting more action than he is.

Ox and some of the other prof-types are coming over to get their clothes, so I give Ox the fish eye and we both clear our throats. Mom and In-_Dad _break the lip-lock but he's still holding her and grinning like a fool, and she's still looking up at him all dreamy-eyed. I smirk a little when I see the envious glances some of the faculty wives are giving Mom. OK, maybe we're not the Nelsons-and we're certainly not the Cleavers-but those old bats would obviously have given their left, um, foot to change places with my mama just now. They can eat their hearts out.

Good ol' Ox steps in and starts making introductions.

And you know, Doctor Henry Jones, Jr. actually gets some _respect _from these eggheads. Even some of the catty wives look impressed.

Dad shakes their hands and makes polite noises, but he's got one arm firmly around Mom the whole time and he's making it pretty plain that she's staying right there if he has anything to say about it. He's acting just like- like one of my buddies who's made another cat lay off his girl. And I don't see Frankenstein anywhere……hmm.

Mom thanks all the volunteers again and they scatter to pick up their clothes and change.

"I should get changed too" she says, looking pointedly at the (older) man in her life.

He lets her go, then, but he doesn't look any too pleased about it.

"I should actually see if Mutt has any shaving tackle here" he says. I'll be pretty scruffy by midnight if I don't shave, and I left my kit bag at the house."

Mom runs a finger over his jaw, light as a snowflake falling.

"I don't mind," she says softly. _Geeze._

So Dad and I grab our dress clothes and head down to the employee men's room where I stashed my kit. I mean I could use a shave anyway if I'm doing the clean-cut number on Mr C, right? And then we're hangin' out in the john, of all places, with a couple of beers snagged from Jose Luis. We're kidding back and forth, taking turns shaving at the mirror, getting dressed and making sure we look sharp. Just like a father and son should. Two fathers in one lifetime-feels funny but it could be worse, y'know?

"Listen, Dad," I say, could you do me a favor?"

"All depends on what it is." OK, so he knows me.

"Well there's this girl, see, who we might run into at midnight mass. Her dad thinks I'm kinda bad news."

"_You_, bad news, Junior? Never woulda figured it." he says. Yeah, everybody's a comedian.

"So anyway, seeing as how I'm spiffed up and all, I thought I'd go over and say 'hi' to her and her folks. I was wondering if you could be my wingman and just kind of stand there and look respectable?"

"Hmmm. Stand there, look respectable, and don't say too much. I think I can manage."

"Hey, thanks. I'll go warm up the car."

"You driving?"

"Yeah, I'd like to. I can drive, Ox can ride shotgun, and you can sit in back with Mom. She's tired."

A frown flickers on his face. On the one hand, he wants to argue with me about who's the top dog and gets to drive. On the other hand, if he's not driving, he can get under a blanket with Mom and snuggle all the way to the church. Mom wins.

"I could go for that", he says.

So we do.


	3. Chapter 3

**A****uthor's note: Pete McGregor is an OC. He's an old friend of Ox and Indy's who studied with Abner Ravenwood at the University of Chicago. Indy and Colin Williams were both groomsmen when Pete and his wife Julie were married in 1932. Pete also appears in three other stories, _Parting Gifts, _(up_) Webley, and Ragnarok _(coming soon).**

New York City

December 23, 1957

It was two days before Christmas in crowded Manhattan.

Peter McGregor, Ph.D. chair of the Archeology department at Barnett College, was enjoying a holiday drink with an old friend in the paneled bar of the University Club.

"We'll miss you at Christmas, Indy"

"I'll miss all of you, too. I've spent a lot of holidays with you, Julie, and the kids, Pete. You've all been great to me"

"We're your _friends,_ Indy. It's hard to believe that it's been 30-some years since we were all Abner's students at Chicago. What's that you always say?"

"Well in our case it's the mileage _and_ the years, buddy."

"Ain't that the truth. Beats me how I turned into a department chair with two grown kids and one graduating next year. And how the hell _you_ turned into a full professor, Jones, is one of those great mysteries of the ages."

Indy shook his head. "If our students could see the couple of reprobates we were back in the day, Pete…"

"Let's just hope and pray that a few of our 'exploits' never see the light of day stateside, old friend."

The two men clinked their glasses and laughed.

"Well, I can't complain" said Indy "since my latest 'exploit' brought me back to Marion-and our son."

"Yes. Even though we'll miss having with us this year, we're very happy for you, Indy.

I'm glad you're getting a chance to know your boy. So you're enroute to Chicago? Why are you stopping in New York?"

"Other than dropping off a gift for you? I actually came early to do some shopping. I want to get something for Marion. It did occur to me that Bedford's a small town and full of my students and colleagues. Perfume is one thing, _**but**_**-** a man who's known to be single buying the sort of 'personal' gift that I have in mind for Marion could start a lot of gossip. Charlie Stanforth is a helluva guy, but I have _no_ desire to be called into his office to discuss my, uh, 'love life'.

"You know you're safe with me, Indy. I was there when you and Marion got started, and I didn't tell anybody then. I can keep my trap shut now. Soo…" Pete looked speculatively at his friend, "what sort of 'personal' gift did you have in mind?"

"Something pretty, to be worn in private. I'd know where to shop in Paris or Vienna, but I have to admit I'm at a bit of a loss in New York"

"_**You**_ at a loss? Hell hath frozen over, Jones.'

"Actually it's not the sort of thing I've tended to do for women. Particularly not stateside."

Pete lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

'Pete, I know you're an old married man, but think about it. Giving a woman an expensive gift, especially an expensive, _intimate_ gift carries a lot of freight. It generally implies that you're very interested, and that you're going to stick around or at least think about it. But if you're not and…you aren't…and she'll just take whatever you give her and use it to dazzle the next man, why bother?"

Pete leaned back, took a sip of his drink, and prudently decided to change the subject.

"One of the secrets of my long and happy marriage, Indy is that I know there are a few things that a man should never buy on the cheap. One of them is women's lingerie."

Pete took out his wallet, withdrew a business card, and passed it to his old friend.

"This shop's gotten it's share of my ah, patronage over the years. Julie's always been happy with anything I've bought for her there. But I'll warn you about two things-the 'selection' is amazing and it's priced accordingly- which shouldn't be a problem for you?'

Indy sat back and allowed himself a small smile.

"It's not"

"And, the other thing is, my friend, although I hate to admit it we're not as young as we used to be. When the staff at a place like that waits on men our age, they assume that we're old fools buying for young mistresses. A well-placed remark that this is a gift for your wife-which Marion essentially _is,_ will get you better service."

Indy looked at his old friend ruefully. "I only wish I _could_ make Marion my wife."

"If you'll forgive me, Indy-I'm sure I'm not the only one to wonder why she _isn't_. This is, by your own admission, the woman you love, and the mother of your child-why _aren't_ you married to her?"

"Because she doesn't want to marry me, Pete."

"Oh?"

"I proposed last fall, before we hit stateside. She turned me down flat."

"Well, not completely flat, obviously, or you wouldn't be going to spend Christmas with her."

"And my son. And Ox, of course. It's unbelievable, Pete. A man starts thinking his best years are behind him, and something like this happens."

"And maybe he realizes that the best is yet to come."

"Well, a fella can hope." Indy opened his jacket and gave a meaningful tap to the square blue box in the inside breast pocket. "I'm planning on asking her again."

"Tiffany's, Jones? You're moving up in the world."

"That would be 'have moved', Pete. I have_ tenure_, remember?"

"May I see it? Julie will want to know."

"Oh all right, for Julie's sake."

Pete opened the box and gave a low whistle. "Mighty fancy, Jones. This little beauty must have set you back a pretty penny."

"Haven't got anywhere else to spend it. The sapphire in the middle was my mother's- the diamonds on the side and the setting are new."

"Well, Godspeed and best of luck, Indy. Here's hoping the lady says 'yes' this time."

"You'll be among the first to know if she does."

The two men shook hands and parted ways.

2

Outside the club, Indy flagged down a cab and gave the driver the address he'd gotten from Pete. When he got out, he wasn't sure if he'd come to the right place. The glass display window featured a tasteful Christmas tree, decked in red bows and silver ornaments, surrounded by a demure assortment of women's gloves, scarves, and handbags. To the right of the window was a door with a discreet brass nameplate: _Aubade, _it said.

Indy remembered his French and smiled. An _Aubade_ is a poem for the forbidden lovers who must part at dawn. _Marion and I certainly did our share of that. But not any more..._

Indy opened the door to be greeted by a middle aged woman seated behind a handsome Louis XIV style table.

"Good morning, _M'sieu"_ she said. And welcome to _Aubade_. Have we had the pleasure of serving you before?

_Ah, this is the French system. You sign in at the desk -not your own name, necessarily- and a personal shopper, a _vendeuse_, takes you through the boutique. And if I'm reading this right, the prices aren't posted. It's understood that if you have to ask, you can't afford to be here. _Good._ Nothing but the best for my sweet baby._

"I've never been here before" said Indy, with what he hoped was a winning smile. "But when I told a friend I was looking for something truly special, he gave me your address."

"Ah', said the receptionist. "May I have your friend's name?"

"Oh, that would be telling, now wouldn't it?" Indy replied.

_And now that I've proved I know the rules of the game, things should go smoothly from here. _

"Indeed" the receptionist answered. "And in a business such as ours, discretion is often the better part of valor, is it not m'sieu?" Ah_, I guessed right. If I'd given her Pete's name she would have said she didn't recognize it and showed me out. They must have a very high-powered clientele, here. _

"All our waiting areas are private. If you'll sign my register, I'll be glad to show you to one of them. May I offer you some refreshment?

"Not necessary, thank you."

Indy signed the guest book 'Henri Defense' and followed the receptionist to a plush carpeted alcove furnished with an armchair, table and lamp.

In a few moments, a young sales clerk approached him. She was wearing a black skirt and white blouse with her hair pulled severely back.

"M. Defense?" she said, "My name is Helene. It will be my pleasure to assist you today. I understand you are looking for a gift for a lady."

"Indeed I am. For a very special lady indeed."

"And what did you have in mind, sir?"

Indy considered the dizzying prospects for a moment before he came down to earth.

"A negligee, I think"

If you'll come with me?"

Indy followed the v_endeuse _to the main part of the boutique. It was all mirrors, and crystal chandeliers with soft brocade wallpaper. Being a man, Indy ignored the décor in favor of the array of enticing possibilities, artfully displayed on gilt tables scattered throughout the luxurious rooms.

"If you could tell me a little about your lady, I could help you narrow down a selection, sir. For instance, what scent does she wear?"

"Depends", said Indy" In public, she wears Chanel Number 5. For _me_, she wears Shalimar."

"Ah" said the _vendeuse_. "So she's striking, original and warm, with a deep heart that she doesn't show to just anyone."

Indy was intrigued, "Pretty much .How do you know all that?"

"Oh, you can tell a lot about a woman by the fragrance she wears. Let me show you a few things that might suit her..."

He knew the right one when he saw it. The satin negligee was blue, a little darker than Marion's eyes. Its' cut was simple and elegant- Marion had never liked flounces and frills. There was a deep slit on one side, just perfect for showing off those still-gorgeous legs. Time and motherhood had given his sweet baby a more womanly figure, and he reckoned she would fill the low cut neckline very, _very_ nicely. _Mmmmmm…._

Indy fingered the buttery satin, and allowed himself a moment to imagine it gliding over those luscious curves…_Oh yes, this is perfect. Though I do wonder which one of us is going to enjoy it more… during the brief time she'll be wearing it, that is…_

Would you like to see it modeled, sir? _Pete, you __dog__! You didn't tell me about this part! Or maybe the _vendeuse_ saw I'm not wearing a wedding ring and made the obvious assumption…_

"Only by the lovely lady I'm giving it to, thank you."

'Very well." The _vendeuse_ looked approving. "Could you tell me about the size, then? We use European sizes, so I don't need an exact number. Just give me an idea about her height and figure."

Indy smiled and gestured. "She's about this tall, _just high as my heart, _and about this big around, curvy but not heavyset." He spread his hands apart in illustration. _And_ _she's_ _the warmest, sweetest_ _armful a lonely man could wish for on a cold winter's night…_

'That will be a 91-96, or American size 10, I think said the _vendeuse_. "Does that seem about right?"

"Mmm...yes."

"We should have this style available in her size. This is a beautiful gown, but it's not a style that just anyone can wear."

"She's not just anyone"

"Would you like it gift wrapped?"

"Yes, thank you, but something plain."

"Our gift wrap is discreet," the _vendeuse_ pointed out.

"Oh no, it's not like that", Indy explained, grinning. "We have a teenage son. I'd just as soon pass on the eye rolling and the _geeze, Dad_."

The young clerk lost her chilly reserve and gave Indy a genuine, friendly smile. 'Well, maybe this isn't the sort of thing you'd want your wife to open in front of the kids", she allowed. "I'll write up your ticket now and if you'll just have a seat in the front, sir, we'll wrap your package and bring it out to you."

Back in the parlor, Indy withdrew an astonishing sum from his wallet, and paid for his purchase. He planted himself gingerly on one of the delicate armchairs and accepted a cup of coffee.

As he was finishing the coffee, the _vendeuse_ walked up with a bag. It contained a gift wrapped in heavy silver paper and tied with an elegant red satin bow.

"Here you are, sir", she said with a smile. She paused and added, shyly, "If I may say so, it's been pleasure to wait on a real gentleman, who is so obviously in love with his wife. She's a lucky woman. I hope you have a very Merry Christmas with your family."

"No, mademoiselle, I'm a lucky man. And I wish you a very Merry Christmas, as well.'

Indy stepped outside, checked his watch, and signaled for a cab.

It was time to make Grand Central, so he could get on his train.

And get home to those he loved.

**Coda**

New Rochelle, New York

December 23, 1957

Later that day

Julie Macgregor greeted her husband with a kiss at the door.

"How was your drink with Indy, honey?"

"Pour me some coffee and I'll tell you all about it."

Pete followed his wife to the kitchen, sat down at the table, and looked around hopefully  
"Any spritz left?"

Julie set two mugs of coffee and a plate of cookies on the table.

"Pete, you're worse than the kids ever were. But I saved some for you. Now, _give_."

"Indy looks great-easily 10 years younger than he did last time I saw him. You can tell he's as crazy about Marion as he ever was in '26-and he's just over the moon about being a father."

"I'm glad"

"I've always thought that, despite his protestations to the contrary, Indy never really got over losing Marion. Either time. He was never happy for long with anybody else, because else nobody else was her. But you know, he said he's asked her to marry him and she turned him down."

"Well, naturally she did."

"I'm obviously missing something."

"Of _course_ you are, you're a _man._ Julie said in mock exasperation. "Pete, honey, you've just got to look at this from the woman's point of view. Indy's bailed on her twice. From what you've told me the first time was her father's doing, but the second time was all him. Now I've only met Marion the once, when they visited you in the hospital, but I can tell she's a smart cookie. If Indy wants her back, he's going to have to work for it."

Pete nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense. No man treasures what he can get too easily."

"And speaking as a woman, I think she _deserves _to be courted a little. And it sounds like he's on the right track Lingerie from Aubade, and a little box from Tiffany's? Not bad."

"He listened to me for once. And he was so happy to have the chance to spoil her."

Well, good." Julie smiled. "I wouldn't worry about Indy. If he doesn't do something incredibly stupid..."

"Honey this is _Jones_ we're talking about…"

"Oh, Pete_._ There'll be a wedding before next Christmas, just you wait and see."

"From your mouth to God's ears, sweetheart. I hope they'll be as happy as we've been."


	4. Chapter 4

**A****uthors note: My grateful thanks to thunderincrimson, who graciously helped me with translating English to Italian. Since he is a linguist, I'm sure Indy is pleased, as well : )  
**

Christmas is a time for family. I treasure that, although I must admit that my family is somewhat unconventional. It consists of a woman, neither my sister nor my wife, and her son, neither my nephew nor my child. But we three, Harold Oxley, Marion Ravenwood, and her son, Henry 'Mutt' Williams contrive to rub along tolerably well together and to meet any difficulties life sends us head-on. The latest of these difficulties was my unfortunate encounter with representatives of the Soviet Union, who captured me and held me prisoner while I was on an archeological expedition in Peru.

Now, the upshot of this encounter was the addition of a fourth member to our little group-Henry 'Indiana' Jones, Junior. Henry-Indiana is an old friend and colleague of mine from the days when we both studied with Abner Ravenwood, Marion's father, at the University of Chicago. Indiana is also Marion's erstwhile lover and the father of her child. We three have been estranged from him for many years, ever since he abandoned Marion one week before their wedding.

When he left, Marion, unbeknownst to Indiana, was carrying his child. Being a courageous and resourceful woman, Marion picked up and moved on with her life. She had her baby and eventually married another friend of mine, a pilot named Colin Williams. Colin's death in the late war was a tragedy for us all. Young Henry- Mutt- always believed that he was Colin's son. And although Mutt and I both read Henry's book, Henry was not aware that Mutt existed, and, until recently, neither man was aware of their relationship.

It is not an exaggeration to say that the three of us owe Henry our lives. Henry can be reckless and heedless, but I am sure we are not the only ones who have cause to be thankful for his courage and strength. Had he not arrived to rescue me from the clutches of the Soviets, I am sure I would be lying in an unmarked grave in the Amazon, with Marion and possibly Mutt by my side. We four had an incredible adventure, the details of which I am not at liberty to disclose. At the end, Marion and Indiana were reunited, Mutt learned the truth about his parentage, and I regained an old friend. We returned at last to the United States, safe and well, thanks to Henry Jones.

I do Henry the credit of acknowledging that he seems to realize how grievously he has erred, the seriousness of the wrongs he has done, and the preciousness of what he had lost. He is resolute in his determination to make things as right as he can with his son, and with his son's mother. It's also fair to say that he loves Marion to his very bones-and that perhaps he never really stopped loving her. I was gratified to learn that Henry asked Marion to marry him-again, on our way back from Peru. To all of our surprise, (and Indiana's considerable chagrin) Marion declined his offer.

However, Marion was agreeable to allowing Henry back into her life. There are frequent 'phone calls and letters, and less frequent visits. She and Mutt have been to stay with Henry at his home in Connecticut, and now Henry is spending Christmas with us at Marion's home in Chicago.

Both Mutt and I would confess, if asked, that we have mixed feelings about this. I was pleased to see Mutt begin to forge a relationship with Henry, who after all is his father. I do believe that Marion should at least have informed Henry that he had a son. And it is plain to the meanest observer that Henry and Marion love each other deeply. However, both I and the younger Henry have our reservations about his parents resuming a 'marital' relationship without benefit of clergy.

"Look, Ox" Mutt has said to me "I get that Mom and Indy think they can make up their own rules. And you know, they already had me, so in a way it's lockin' the barn door after the horse is gone. But if it was me, or one of my buddies doing that to a girl, I know what people would say. I don't want people to be sayin' that about me or my mama."

I cannot but agree.

Although Henry may not realize it, Marion has been preparing for this visit for some time. Little changes, with him in mind, have been made throughout the house. The guest bedroom has been cleaned and furnished with fresh sheets and towels. I frankly doubt Henry will be spending much time there, as a warmer welcome has been prepared for him a few doors down. After Thanksgiving, Marion brought a large bag from Brooks Brothers home with her. Now a handsome man's dressing gown-_cashmere,_ if you please, and a rather large pair of slippers are laid out in the ensuite bath off Marion's bedroom. A tray with a bottle of Henry's favorite single-malt scotch and two glasses set is out on the nightstand. And the framed picture of Colin Williams, wearing his RAF uniform, has been wrapped in tissue paper and placed in the linen closet.

Marion was also up at 6:30 this morning baking a batch of toffee bars. She claims it's because she couldn't sleep. I have a feeling it has more to do with that particular American delicacy being a firm favorite with both her Henrys. I must confess that I sampled a bar or two, myself. They _are _an excellent accompaniment to coffee or tea.

So this evening ,after serving at the Christmas Eve charity dinner at Marion's restaurant, our motley group is leaving for another cherished tradition-midnight mass at Our Lady Queen of Martyrs Catholic church. Marion and I have been attending this service since we settled in Chicago in 1948. Young Mutt used to fall asleep between his mother and me. Now he towers over both of us, and can often be found roaming the narthex before the service starts, greeting schoolfellows, work chums and other associates of his.

As we are finding seats, Mutt nudges Henry and points out a family group . Ahh, it's the Capoletti family with the lovely Miss Otina, who must be home from college. She's a sweet young lady and young Mutt is quite interested in her.... This week.

We settle ourselves as the organist begins a prelude. Henry is sitting next to the aisle; Marion is next to him, then young Mutt,then me. Marion is tired- it's 11:45 and she's been up since 6:00- and her head droops a little onto Henry's shoulder. He knows, I trust, that it would be improper for him to put his arm around her in a house of worship. However, he possesses himself of her gloved hand and keeps firm hold of it.

Many immigrant families attend this Midnight Mass. There is a soft buzz of French, Polish, and Italian from the congregants around us as we wait for the service to begin.

'How much Italian do you speak?" Henry asks Marion, with what I can only characterize as a devilish grin.

"Some" Marion answers.

Henry leans over and whispers in her ear.

Marion's cheeks turn a becoming shade of pink. She shoots him an indignant look and says "Jones!"

"Did you understand that?" Henry asks.

"I think I got the gist, but there were a few words I didn't know."

"Don't worry" Henry positively smirks, "I'll explain later."

"I'm a slow learner", Marion answers demurely. "I may have to see an example."

Henry leans over again "per** te**, bella signora, si può fare*", he purrs. (*Indy said "for **you**, lovely lady, that can be arranged.")

Mutt rolls his eyes.

Before I can call them to order the choir begins the beautiful _Veni, Veni, Emmanuel_, and decorum is restored.

It is odd that a son of the Church of England finds consolation in the worship of the Church of Rome. But there is something about the Latin, the beautiful music, the rich vestments and the poetry of the Midnight service that fills my soul with calm delight. Even though I attend as a spectator, and not as a member of the church, it prepares me as nothing else does to appreciate the true meaning of Christmas.

After the recessional, the worshipers make their leisurely way out the doors. Some are carrying sleepy children. Some stand in chatting groups, exchanging the compliments of the season. Both Henrys venture to the side of the nave, where Mutt, resplendent in jacket and tie, greets Miss Otina and her family. After a few moments of what appears to be pleasant conversation, Indiana rejoins us and offers Marion his arm.

"Mutt is taking his girl for a walk to, um, see the Live Nativity," he says with a grin. "Don't want to cramp a guy's style, so I thought I'd come back here and get the car." Marion smiles and leans her head onto his sleeve.

As the congregation continues to disperse, an unexpected sound breaks the tranquility of the night. At first I think the popping noises are from a backfiring car. Then I see Henry's head whip around in recognition and his face turn grim. He likely knew it was gunfire before any one else did. He grabs Marion, shoves her down, and ruthlessly gives me the same treatment. Then he leans on the pew in front of us and tips it over, giving us a makeshift shelter. He crouches down beside us and raises an urgent finger.

"Marion-_stay here!_ Ox- make damn sure she does!" he barks.

Marion grips his hand. "Where are you going?"

Indiana pulls his gun from the holster he has been concealing under his tweed jacket.

"My boy's over there and he's unarmed, babe. I'm going after him."

The nave of the church is a tumult of screaming, pews falling over, gunfire, and smoke.

"Oh, Dear God, Ox, it's a hit" Marion whispers. "This has never happened before. The gangs keep churches off-limits. And it's _Christmas!_"

Although there have been rumors of tensions amongst the less savory elements of society, I, too am astonished these matters should profane the sanctuary of a church on such a holy night. Marion and I peer around the pew to see a horrible sight. The older women who have been tending the altar flowers are huddled behind the lectern. The young priest stands in front of the confessional, where presumably some of his flock has found shelter. Arms outstretched, he shields the door with his body.

And there are several suit clad forms, dreadfully still, lying in the aisle. I recognize _Signor _Capoletti, facedown in a pool of blood, with the distinctive scarf Miss Otina knitted for him still visible around his neck

Then we hear an all-too-familiar voice-"Dad! Over here! He's still alive! If you cover me I can get him!"

Mutt turns to the girl beside him "Tina- give me your belt-quick! I need something for a tourniquet!" The resourceful Miss Capoletti removes the belt from her dress, then lifts her skirt and tears some strips off her slip with what I can see is Mutt's knife.

"I've got your back, kid!" Henry calls and we see him cock his revolver and assume a firing crouch from behind a pew.

Mutt, with every ounce of his father's foolhardy courage, gets down on his hands and knees and starts crawling for the wounded man. "Hang on, Mr. C!" he calls.

The priest's lips move. I only hope he is praying for our brave lad. And his father. I certainly am.

When he reaches his goal, Mutt takes his makeshift pad and tourniquet and binds the bleeding leg. Then he hooks his hands under _Signor _Capoletti's arms and starts dragging him toward the side of the church.

A singles shot rings out and Marion winces.

Then we hear Henry. "_Sul mio onore, se solo torci un capello al mio ragazzo, bastardo, non esiterò ad ammazarti, mi hai capito?_" he shouts. Whatever he said, the entire nave of the church falls silent.

There is a tense standoff as Mutt pulls the wounded man over to his weeping wife and daughter. The three of them bend over him, doubtless checking for further injury and giving what aid they can. Henry, who has been ghosting from vantage point to vantage point, joins their little group. He stands guard, feet planted and gun drawn, between the huddled family and the crowded church.

Suddenly a voice shouts in rapid Italian and footsteps race from the church. A car engine rumbles to life outside.

"That must have been their lookout", whispers Marion. "Help is on the way."

And so it proves. Lights and sirens fill the frosty night as several police cars pull up. Ambulances arrive for the wounded, hearses for the dead. The police set up a temporary post in the choir loft and start questioning witnesses. Given the turn of events, it is unsurprising that both Mutt and Indiana are singled out for special attention.

As for Marion and me, we give brief statements and are dismissed downstairs, where we settle down to wait for them. To my surprise we are joined by the lovely Miss Otina and an older woman who she introduces as her aunt. They hold each others' hands and speak in liquid Italian. Miss Otina says they are waiting for her cousin, who is giving his statement. Marion asks the older woman about the phrase Indiana shouted, but to my surprise, Miss Otina answers.

"It wasn't the sort of thing that you expect to hear in church, Mrs. Williams, but I guess a_ lot _of what happened tonight wasn't church stuff. He said that on his honor any bastard who touched one hair on his boy's head was gonna die from the feet up. Did he _mean_ that?"

"You bet." says Marion. "You bet he did."

After a while, an officer escorts our Henrys downstairs.

"Thank you again for your assistance, Colonel Jones" he says to Indiana.

"There would have been far more loss of life had if you hadn't stepped in."

"And you, young man", he says to Mutt, "Not many young fellows your age would do what you did. You've got the heart of a lion and a set of big, brass b-"

Henry jerks his head toward the ladies and the officer falls silent. Mutt scuffs one foot on the ground and looks down modestly.

"If I have 'em- I got 'em from my Dad, sir."

Henry _beams _and puts his arm around his son's shoulder.

Marion embraces both her Henrys, then draws back to look up Indiana in mock indignation.

"I swear, you two -can't do the simplest thing with out _one_ of you stirring up trouble. What are you gonna pull next time we hafta go to the A&P, Jones?"But she's smiling and her eyes shine with pride. I think both men take the spirit of her words and not the letter.

Meanwhile, Mutt has been engaged in earnest conversation with Miss Otina and her aunt.

"Mom,' Mutt says "Mrs. Gavino doesn't drive. I'm going to drive their car to the hospital for her. Tina's brother Vinnie will meet us there and take us home."

"Good plan. I think the kid deserves to get a little smooching out of this", says Henry, _sotto voce. _Marion gives him a Look. He subsides_, _for once, and we head for home.

When we are taking off our coats, the quiet of the entryway is broken by a substantial rumbling. Henry looks at his shoes.

"Hungry, Jones?" Marion asks, amused.

"_Starving_, babe", he answers. "The last time I ate was the toffee bar I snagged when I dropped off my suitcase. Could we rustle up a sandwich or something?"

"I can do better than that, Marion smiles. Soon a knob of butter is sizzling on the stove, and Marion is sliding eggs, cheese and mushrooms into a pan. I take a small portion out of courtesy to the cook, but Indiana polishes off his omelet with an appetite that would do credit to his son.

"_Damn,_" he says to me. "What a woman, Ox. Good looking _and_ she can cook. Throws a mean punch, too." Marion looks pleased.

"I'll wash up," says Marion when we are finished. "Indy, why don't you help Ox with Mutt's treasure map?"

So Henry comes with me as I roam the house laying clues for Mutt. It's a tradition that Mutt's stocking contains a spill of twisted paper with one clue that leads to another. Mutt follows a string of clues through the house and yard, until he finds his 'big present'. In former years, this was something like a chemistry set or baseball glove. This year, unbeknownst to Mutt, a gleaming Harley-Davidson motorcycle is waiting in the garage. Marion says we are spoiling him. Henry and I maintain that since Mutt lost his cherished 'bike' in Nazca, Peru, essentially on our accounts, that we may be permitted to replace it. Marion says replacing is one thing, furnishing the boy with the most powerful machine Harley-Davidson makes is another.

When we are done, we join Marion in the kitchen, where she's finishing the cleanup from our impromptu repast.

"I'll wait up for young Mutt" I tell her. "You should probably see to Indiana, Marion. I think he was knocked about a bit at the church."

"Oh just of couple of scrapes," says Henry in an offhand manner.

'Upstairs, mister, I'd better take a look at you, then," says Marion. She takes hold of his hand and starts towing him toward the stairs.

Henry grins at me over her head, a grin that tells me he is fully aware of my subterfuge-and thanks me for it. _Happy Christmas, Henry_ _and Marion._

Before they reach the landing, his arm has slipped around her waist and her head is inclined toward his. Snatches of words float down behind them, among which are '_done enough'_ and _'sweet tired baby'_. The last thing I hear, before they disappear up the stairs, is Marion's voice, saying "Oh, _Jones_". Their separation has been brief, this time, but I don't doubt they will find their reunion sweet.

I may have a discreet word with those two, however, about the way sound carries in this old house at night. Given the nature of the sounds, perhaps I should speak to Henry-this is not a topic one can properly broach to a woman, even a remarkable woman such as Marion.

The rush of bathwater is audible, along with a woman's light teasing voice, and a man's rich throaty chuckle. Both are accompanied by _far_ more splashing and laughing than one would expect, had the bathtub only one occupant. I cannot begrudge my dear Marion and my old friend their moments of intimate happiness, but perhaps young Mutt would prefer not to overhear them.

As for me, I think I shall listen to the wireless and wait here for Mutt's return.

And give thanks that my family, unusual though it may be, is safe and well this Christmas morning.

God bless us every one.


	5. Chapter 5

Marion and Indy walked up the dim quiet stairs to the hall that led to the bedrooms. Indy paused by the guest room door, not wanting to presume on his welcome. His chest loosened as Marion took his hand and led him, firmly, toward the master bedroom.

"I left my grip in the guest room," he offered, a little shyly.

"That was very proper and gentlemanly of you, Dr. Jones," Marion teased, "but you're coming with me. I think I can, ah, provide for your needs."

Well, _that_ called for a squeeze… "Can you, now?"

"Ithink so_._ My bedroom has an ensuite bath," she continued, "and I expect I'll need to doctor whatever bumps and scrapes you've managed to pick up _this time_. So how about a nice hot soak?"

"Do I get company?"

She dimpled up at him. _God, that smile_….."Maybe. If you ask nicely. After all it_ is_ Christmas."

Indy took a moment to appreciate the view as she leaned over and filled the tub. Then his eye was caught by the handsome bathrobe hanging on a hook by the door.

"Isn't this a little big for you, sweetheart?" he said, fingering the lush fabric.

"Of course it is, you idiot man, since it's for you. And if you think those slippers fit _my_ feet we're gonna have words.'

"For me?"

"Mmmm…hmmm. Even has your initials on it."

He took the robe down and held it up against him. 'Aww, honey…." _The way she saw to his comfort –those sweet little things that meant 'love' just got him where he lived. _Every damn time. Indy pulled his baby in for a soft kiss. "Thank you."

"Why don't you see if it fits? There's a valet stand by the dresser, you can put your clothes there."

He hesitated. "Uh, that wasn't Col's, was it?"

Marion smiled indulgently. "Oh, _Indy_. No, of course not -it's new. And before you ask, I bought the bedroom suite after Col died, when we moved to the States."

He blew out his breath. "I expect I _am_ an idiot, but I did wonder. I want to be with you, you know that, but I'd toss and turn all night in the guest room before I climbed into Colin's bed."

"I know. But it's _Christmas Eve_, Indy. It's not a night to worry about the past. It's a night to be happy we're together."

"I certainly am," Indy murmured as he bent down for another kiss.

Marion turned up her face and cuddled closer, when suddenly Indy whirled and pushed her behind him. "Back to the wall, partner, there's somebody out there."

Marion flattened herself against the window curtain.

"How many?" she whispered

"One that I can see. When I was outside with Ox, I had one of those hairs-on-the-back-of-your-neck things,-like we were being watched. Should have paid attention to it. _Shit._ Now we've got to find who it is and stop the kid from walking into an ambush."

Marion blanched, but took a deep breath and forced her voice to firmness.

"Not my boy, they don't."

Indy touched her shoulder. "Damn straight… "

"Who do you think it is?"

"Not a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer, that's for sure… maybe Chicago police?

"I doubt_ that_, Indy…"

"If the FBI's had a man keeping tabs on you, they could have just tightened your security. Or, maybe someone in the PD tipped off a friend with a liking for borscht."

"Yeah. It could even be someone from that hit at the church- a guard or an enforcer."

"I hate to drag you into this, but…"

"You don't have a choice. Besides, we're on my turf, pal and I'll know friend from foe".

Indy nodded. "Our best bet now is to fool your 'guest' into thinking the only thing we're worried about is making some time without the kid around." He caught her eye "Funny, that _was_ my original plan…"

"Maybe later, Jones. So then we sneak out and surprise him?"

"Yup. Ready?"

Arms around each other, they switched on the light and walked over to the window. Marion put up a hand and pretended to giggle in Indy's ear.

"OK," she said under her breath, "I need to get out of these heels, so I'm going to sit on the bed and make like I'm taking off my stockings. Go over to the left nightstand and pretend to pour us drinks."

"I don't get to watch?"

"Jones…"

"Now bring me my glass and put your arm around me. If you block the window I can duck down and get my flats."

"With pleasure. He leaned into her neck and whispered in her ear "Which nightstand is your gun in?"

"Right side._"_

"Got it. I'm gonna go through the drawer, like I'm looking for something, and get it." Hands below the windowsill, he took the gun out, and gave it to her.

Then Indy stood up, walked to the window, and pulled down the shade. "All right, beautiful, let's make 'em think we're gonna be too busy to notice if they make a move."He held out his arms "C'mere and kiss me. But have a little mercy on a suffering bastard and don't tease the weak spots, all right? Can't afford to be too distracted."

Marion smiled and went to him. She wound her arms around Indy's neck and kissed him, hard and long. Still entwined, they sank back onto the bed. Indy rolled on top of her and reached over to turn off the bedside light.

"_Damn",_ he muttered in her ear, "I don't know how you do it. I'm just one big weak spot right now."

Indy sighed. "Much as I'd rather not..."

He dropped off the bed and crawled to the door.

Marion rolled down, and followed him.

In the dark hall, Indy's grin flashed as they checked their guns. "Maybe we can pick up where we left off later. Right now we better stick together."

Marion nodded. "But I take point, buster. It's my yard, they'll expect to see me. That will put surprise on your side."

"OK. But if I go down- get back to the house, get Ox secured, and call the police."

_Not on your life, Jones_

Guns drawn, Indy and Marion crept down the stairs. They slipped past the parlor, where Ox had fallen asleep in his chair, and out the kitchen door to the back yard.

Indy's nose twitched at the faint whiff of cigarette smoke in the frosty air. He jerked his head in its direction.

Marion nodded, slid in front of him, and cocked her pistol

They glided silently around the foundation plantings, until they saw a shadow crouched under Marion's snow-covered grape arbor. His cigarette glowed in the dark and the faint light from the bedroom window outlined his face.

Marion brought her pistol up to undisguised aim.

"Party's over, buddy boy", she called. "Hands up. Now, who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing here?"

Indy circled to cover the man from behind.

"The little lady ain't aimin' at your _heart,_ Mac. If you don't want to sing soprano for the rest of your life, start talkin'."

The man stepped into the light from the waxing moon, hands up, eyes wide and mouth working

"_Signora _Williams! I am a friend! Don't shoot!"

Marion's aim didn't waver, but she recognized the voice. "_Barto?_ Bartolomeo Mascio is that _you_?"

"Yes! I mean no harm to you or the good_ Professore, _we are here to watch over you and young _Enrique_."

"_We?_" said Indy "You call your friend over nice and easy, pal. In _English."_

"'_Giovanni.."_ said Mascio and another man emerged from the shadows.

"One more step toward her and I shoot."Indy growled "Hands up"

"It s all right, Indy" said Marion, "I know this one, too. Good evening _Signor_ Ricci" she added.

Ricci turned toward Marion with a placating smile. "_Signora_ Williams, calm your man. We are only her to protect you."

"I don't _need_ protecting," Marion snapped. "I don't _want_ protecting. The Raven is neutral territory and so is my house. I fork over enough to keep it that way. You boys take your beef somewhere else."

"You're not a neutral party anymore, _Signora _Williams. You son took a side-a very public side-and now we have to protect you from those who may-question his choice,

"Mutt" said Indy, exasperated," probably wouldn't know one side from the other if you paid him. For God's sake-_he's 19 years old_ and he was _trying to impress a girl."_

"And you, _Signor_, who also took a very public stand-which side are you on?"

Indy snorted. "Me? I learned a long time ago to stay out of Chicago politics. I don't give a rat's ass about any of you. I just want my family safe."

"Your family?"

Isn't this swell, Indy thought sourly, just great. It's 3 AM on Christmas morning and we should all be in bed. One of us even had company lined up. So what do I get? Another member of the Marion Ravenwood Fan Club who wants to know about my intentions"

"You heard me. No further discussion. Now, since I've got things under control here, why don't you fellas go on home and spend Christmas with _your _families." It wasn't a question.

"Not so fast" said a voice. "Bartolomeo Mascio, Antonio Ricci, you're under arrest."

"And who the _hell_" said Indy sweetly "might you be?"

"Stanley Emerson, FBI" A young, blond man in a heavy coat rounded the corner from the side yard.

_Oh, don't tell, me let me guess. This kid was the low man on the totem pole- they sent him out on Christmas Eve because he's got no family yet. And he's young, and green as grass. _Indy groped for the fading remnants of his patience.

"All right, then, Agent, you have a warrant_?"_

"Not exactly-but do you know who these guys _are_?"

"They appear be friends of Mrs. Williams and her son, who were paying a rather unusual visit. Isn't that right, Marion?"

"Yes"

"Without a warrant, you've got no grounds to hold them unless Marion wants to press charges for trespassing."

"I don't." said Marion firmly. "I don't want any trouble"

"And we aren't going to _have _any trouble", Indy added, "because Mr. Mascio and Mr. Ricci are leaving to go home. When they do, you and I can settle things, Agent, and we can all turn in."

Indy spoke too soon. Just then a car, lights out, coasted into the driveway and headed for the garage. Mutt had perfected this maneuver over many nights of coming home past his curfew. But when he looked out the window and saw his mother in an armed standoff, the steering wheel slewed and the car stopped with a wail of brakes and tires.

"Holy fuck!" Mutt yelled. "Vinny, Dave-let's GO!"

The three young men swarmed out of the car and pelted over to join the fray.

Indy saw the agent's gun go up, and wished passionately that he had his whip at his side to help him restore order

"Hold your fire!" he called. Emerson checked-just long enough- at the tone of command in his voice. Indy whirled to the two older me and barked, "You know those kids? Get 'em under control before somebody gets hurt!"

He turned to his partner. "Marion! Talk to them!"

There was a flurry of shouts and exclamations which ended with Dave, Mutt, and Vinny lined up between the two older men at the edge of Marion's patio, facing Indy and Agent Emerson.

Indy, gun still in hand, fixed them with a gimlet eye."

"Gentlemen, there's a car over there. I think you all were just leaving, right? Mutt, take your mother inside, please."

The group, somewhat the worse for wear, started toward the driveway. Marion planted her feet and glared.

"Henry." said a no-nonsense voice, "Get. Her. Inside. Now, please."

Dave and Vinny couldn't believe their eyes when Mutt walked over to his mother and said. "Let's go, Mom."

Marion's jaw dropped. "_What?_"

"Let'sgo, mama. He"-Mutt jerked his head at Indiana-"must have his reasons."

Indy nodded, and fell back next to the FBI agent.

Muttering under her breath about idiot men, Marion put the safety on her gun and allowed Mutt to walk her to the house.  
"We _should _check on Ox" she conceded.

When Indy opened the kitchen door a few minutes later, he was greeted by a furious, freckle-faced tornado with her hands on her hips and fire in her eyes "Listen up, Jones" she snapped" I don't care who the hell you're used to dealing with, but you don't come to my place and start giving orders right and left.."

"Baby" Indy interrupted tiredly, "unless you're kickin' me out right now, we'll still be here later this morning. Let's fight then, OK? I couldn't get that G-Man sorted out in front of a bunch of kids who don't have security clearances. But the goons have gone home, the kids are OK, the guy taking watch is our guy, and I for one just want to get to bed."

Marion wavered, torn between the urge to give that cocky know-it-all a piece of her mind and the urge to get him tucked up in a warm bed-next to her.

"C'mon, Mom" Mutt put in "it's Christmas."

Marion looked at her exhausted menfolk and sighed. "You win, fellas," she said to her son, and took her Indy by the hand.

Back upstairs, Indy found the simple routine of getting ready for bed together unexpectedly soothing. Marion, who had informed him firmly that she was going to pee and brush her teeth by herself, was still in the bathroom. Hopefully changing into something soft and silky. While he waited for her, Indy glanced around the bedroom and noticed that although he had a robe and slippers, no pajamas were anywhere to be seen. _That's __a hint any fella's happy to take_, he thought as he stripped to his boxers and climbed into bed.

He shivered a little in the chilly sheets and decided he definitely needed someone sweet and loving to warm things up. Soon, Marion slipped in beside him and turned out the light. He rolled over to welcome her just as she turned into his arms. She was shaking-but not with desire_. __**Oh.**_

Indy wrapped the blankets around them both and cradled her against his bare chest.

"It's OK, honey", he murmured," just the adrenaline wearing off. Let it go, let it pass. Indy's got you, Indy's got you, now, and it's gonna be all right."

He held her, cocooned in warmth and comfort, until she stopped shivering and nestled into him contentedly. She tucked her head under his chin and draped one leg over his.

"Never a dull moment, is there, Jones?" Marion said at last.

"I could have done with a few more dull ones, today."

Marion's warm laugh puffed into his chest.

"At least I ended up back in bed with my baby." One hand moved to cup her breast.

"My sweet, warm, soft, _sexy _baby_…" _

"I can't believe you're still interested in that._ You _should be all in, mister."

"Slept on the train."

Marion lifted her head. "_Why _does fighting make men randy?"

"Because we're idiots?"

He felt her smile. "Probably. But we _could_ take up where we left off…"

"Mmmm.." said Indy, fingers stroking, "so we could. I think I was about _here…_."


	6. Chapter 6

For a moment, Indiana didn't know where he was. He wondered if maybe, just maybe he'd died last night after all and hit the afterlife. He felt so good-maybe this was it. So he opened one eye to look around. The afterlife, oddly enough, seemed to be an upstairs room with a sparkle of pale winter sunlight on frosty windows. The afterlife also appeared to be furnished with a large, very comfortable bed, complete with fresh sheets, plump pillows, and a cloud-soft duvet.

Even better, he wasn't alone. Marion, the love of his life, was snuggled close. She wore nothing but her lovely skin, a trace of Shalimar perfume, and-he was pleased to note-a rather satisfied little smile. _Ahhhhh…._Come to mention it, _he _wasn't wearing anything either. Indy stretched and smiled himself as he remembered sharing the bed for some slow, tender loving, then drifting off to sleep in Marion's arms. _This must be paradise._

But no paradise he'd ever heard of came equipped with a large hand pounding on its' door, and a husky tenor voice saying "Merry Christmas! Mom! Indy! Come on and get up, it's Christmas Day in the morning!"

Marion stirred and opened her eyes.

"When he was little," she observed sleepily, "he used to run in and bounce on the bed until I got up."

Indy glanced at their state of (un) dress with a twinge of alarm.

"He's not coming in _now_, is he?"

"_One_ of us plans ahead, Jones. The door's locked."

"Put the strata in the oven, honey" Marion called through the door, "and turn the burner on under the coffee pot. We'll be down in a few minutes".

Indy retreated to the guest room for a quick wash and fresh clothes, but insisted on wearing his new robe for the occasion. Marion, amused, agreed to wear hers to keep him company. By the time they came downstairs, Ox had started a fire in the living room and turned on the Christmas tree lights. A savory aroma drifted from the oven to join the fragrance of brewing coffee and the scent of pine.

Mutt was stretched out on the love seat, with his long legs hanging over one arm and slippered feet dangling. He waved to them with one hand. With the other, he helped himself from a plate of thickly buttered sweet bread, dusted with powdered sugar and spiked with raisins and candied fruit.

Marion's eyes flashed. "Just a minute, young man", she said, "is that the Stollen for the party tonight?"

Mutt shook his head mournfully. "It's a hard-hearted woman who begrudges her hungry boy a piece of Stollen on Christmas Morning", he sighed.

"No, just a sensible one who remembers how sick he got the last time he tried to eat the whole loaf" his mother answered.

Mutt rolled his eyes. "Geeze, Mom, will you give it a rest? I was a lot younger then and…"

"Did you say Stollen?" Indy interrupted. "Lord, I haven't had Stollen since I was a boy. There was a German bakery near our neighborhood in Princeton and my mother used to send me down to buy some on Christmas Eve. We'd have it for our breakfast the next morning."

Marion allowed herself a brief smile at her beloved's male ignorance. "She probably wanted to tire you out and keep you from ransacking the house, Jones."

"Ah, be that as it may," said Indy, "I loved the stuff. The baker always gave me a couple of doughnuts so I wouldn't eat half the loaf on the way home. So pass the plate, Junior."

Instead of passing the plate, Mutt clutched it to his pajama-clad chest. "Oh, no you don't, Pops! You want some Stollen, you go sweet-talk Mom for a plate of your own. This one's mine, all mine..."

"That so?" his father replied. Indy leaned forward to seize the forbidden treasure as Mutt held the plate out of his reach. "All's fair in love and Stollen, kid!" A wrestling match was about to start when…

"Henry!" Ox said sternly to father and son.

"Boys!" Marion added. With the ease of long practice, she snatched the plate from her son's distracted hands and redistributed slices of Stollen to all three of the men in her life.

"Damn" said Mutt. "I don't know how she does it. Never even saw that coming."

"You got your fast parry from somewhere, sweetheart," Marion grinned. "Now-_gentlemen_- try to behave yourselves while I get the coffee."

As Marion poured his coffee, Indy automatically turned his cheek up for a kiss. When she settled on the cushion next to his, Indy put an arm around his greatest treasure and drew her into his side.

"What the hell, Jones?"she murmured.

"Why the hell not, beautiful?" he replied, just as softly. "If we're here in our bathrobes on Christmas morning, I should have my baby close."

Marion snorted, but leaned her head into his shoulder anyway.

"Enough already, it's time for presents!" Mutt announced.

Indy smiled into his steaming cup, and looked up at his family. "Been a while since I've opened a present on Christmas morning. How do you all do this?"

"It's real easy Daddy-O," said Mutt, "just get your thumb under the scotch tape and tear like this…."

"_Henry Walton_, this is not a free for all," said his mother. "And you're old enough to know better."

"Hey, worth a try." Mutt grinned, unrepentant. "The other way takes too long."

Ox spoke genially from his perch in the wing chair by the fire. "Each of us distributes our gifts to the others, and we open them one by one, Indiana. Then we have breakfast, young Mutt gets his stocking, and the hunt commences."

A short while later, the unlikely family was sitting amidst drifts of crumpled wrapping paper. Mutt was turning a handsome gold pocket watch in one hand. "It belonged to your Grandpa- Henry Jones, Sr." Indy explained. "I'm sure he'd want his namesake to have it."

Ox was also looking pleased with his gifts-a leather writing folio from Marion, a set of fine camel-hair dig brushes from Indy, and a pair of carved bookends from Mutt.

Marion had flushed becomingly when she opened Indy's 'personal' gift and snapped the box shut before anyone else could peek. She'd also received a box of cordial cherries from Mutt, and a copy of the newest Daphne du Maurier novel from Oxley.

Indy had looked askance at this. "What are you thinking, Ox? That's utter trash."

"Of course it is," Marion answered. It's tradition-I spend Boxing Day in front of the tree with my feet up, a box of chocolates, and a trashy novel."

Indy was admiring the first Christmas gifts he'd received in several years- a bottle of Remy Martin Cognac from Ox and a box of fine Cuban cigars from Marion. He opened one of the cigar tubes and took an appreciative sniff.

"Brandy and cigars-looks like I have a relaxing evening in my future. But," he frowned and looked sideways at Marion, "I thought you didn't like cigar smoke, baby?"

Marion's breath hitched at the hint of uncertainty in his voice, but Mutt spoke before she could answer. "Actually, you owe me one for that one, Daddy-O. Spent two of the most boring hours of my life at the smoke shop while Mom picked out something she didn't mind smelling. But just in case she changes her mind…"

He tossed Indy a wrapped package which proved to contain a bottle of English Leather aftershave and a package of Sen Sen breath mints. Indy bit his lip, caught his son's eye, and grinned in spite of himself. They were guys, after all.

Mutt snickered. "Shi-I mean shoot, I didn't think about that. God, breath mints and aftershave. All you need is a box of …"

Marion stiffened beside him, and Indy tightened his arm around her to keep her still. "Chocolates for your lovely mother," he finished firmly, with a quelling look at the younger man.

Mutt lifted a hand, as a fencer does when acknowledging a hit, and passed Indy a flat brown envelope, "This is from me, too" he said gruffly. "Mom knows about it already."

Indy thumbed the envelope open and pulled out a sheet of folded paper .

_Class Schedule_ it read, _Cook County High School Completion Program. _

US History,

Algebra III/Trigonometry

English IV

Indy's eyes rested warmly on his son. "You couldn't have given me anything better," he said . "I'm proud of you and I'll help you any way I can."

"You can help me to some breakfast, man, I'm starved."

Mutt headed off to the kitchen with Ox in his wake.

Indy and Marion lingered on the couch.

Indy cleared his throat and said "I got you something else. Would you like it now?"

"Oh,_ Indy_. I have something else for you, too."

Indy grinned. "I said it first, baby. Hold up your hair and close your eyes"

She felt two warm, calloused hands behind her, then a faint tug and slither as something settled around her neck.

When she opened her eyes, Marion found she was wearing a simple gold chain with a dazzling pendant. A star sapphire, so deep blue it was almost purple, glowed in a circle of sparkling pave diamonds.

Indy smiled almost shyly. "Not the piece of Jewelry I'd be giving you if I got a vote- but I hope you'll wear it tonight…"

She gasped. "Indy, honey, it's _beautiful_… oh, but you shouldn't have spent this kind of money.."

He laughed and lifted her hand to his lips. "See why you should marry me? Only a wife tells her man _not _to spend money on her. But" Indy chose his words carefully "I actually didn't _buy_ the sapphire. Now I could _afford _to, don't get me wrong, but I, uh, 'acquired' it in Ceylon a few years back."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I'll tell you the story sometime, but for now let's just call it a 'finder's fee,' OK? I had the pendant made after we hit stateside last fall".

Marion's fae fell.

"What's the matter, honey?"

"Well , I had something else for you, too. But it couldn't possibly hold a candle to this."

"Aw, you let me decide that. Want me to close my eyes?"

"Why not." "Marion reached under the tree and pulled up a soft, squishy bundle wrapped in tissue paper. She opened it and unrolled a cream wool scarf, resplendent with honeycombs and cables, that she looped around her Indy's neck."

"Open your eyes" she said "it's a little nicer than the one I made you when I was 14."

Indy's face split in his lopsided grin as he carefully arranged the scarf and tucked the ends into his robe.

"You're going to wear that in the house?"

"Of course I am. Mutt will have to go outside on his hunt and hey- what guy wouldn't want to show off a present from the prettiest girl in Chicago?"

Indy lowered his voice for her ears alone. "Besides, if you made this for me it means you were thinking of me when I wasn't around."

Marion laughed and said,"You're an idiot, Henry Jones."

Indy stopped adjusting the scarf and scowled

"_What?_ Why am I an idiot now?"

Marion held out her hand and pulled him to his feet. "You think a day went by when I didn't think of you? Now for God's sake let's go get some breakfast before _your_ son eats all of it."


	7. Chapter 7

"Oh, lookit that baby," Mutt breathed. "That sweet, sweet baby."

"I think so," Indy said quietly to the woman tucked under his arm, but his son didn't notice. Mutt's attention was fixed on the brand-new, tricked-out Harley-Davidson motorcycle in front of him.

When Mutt opened his stocking, he'd found the first of his clues from Ox. Marion, Ox and Indy had followed on his hunt through the house and garden. At last, they reached the garage at the back of the house where Mutt's 'big present' shrouded in sheets, waited to be found.

The three adults crowded in to watch Mutt as he sat down on the shiny new Harley and ran a reverent hand over its' gleaming chrome.

"Shit, it's loaded- got everything …" he muttered.

Finally he raised shining eyes to his family.

"You all didn't have to so this" he said.

"On the contrary" Ox answered, smiling. "Since you lost your previous motorcycle, essentially on my behalf, I'm sure that Father Christmas considers this no more than your due."

"And Santa Claus has a few Christmases to make up for," Indy added. Only Marion heard the faint crack in his voice. She squeezed his hand.

Indy cleared his throat. "Gonna take her for a spin, Junior?" he asked.

Mutt shook his head with an expression that indicated that the older man had clearly lost his mind.

"You crazy? Waay too much ice on the road, man. I'm gonna wait till it dries out and warms up a little. Then my girl and I are gonna get acquainted. Besides"-he cocked an eye at his mother –"it's about time to pick up stuff for the party, isn't it, Mom? And I'll need the station wagon for that."

"It's getting close," Marion acknowledged. "Jorge and Jose Luis will be here to set up tables anytime, so we need to get this show on the road by noon."

"And" she added, with a significant look at her son, "You should take a bit of a break, Ox. You had a big day yesterday and you'll have a busy evening tonight."

"Yeah, Oxman," Mutt agreed. "It's getting chilly out here-let's get you back in the house."

Ox allowed himself to be persuaded. He'd begun to recover from his ordeal in Peru, but he still tired easily and there was a frailty in his tentative steps and stooped shoulders that caused Indy to frown, and Mutt and Marion to exchange worried glances.

Once inside, Marion settled Ox in his wing chair with a book, a lap robe and hot tea.

Indy and Mutt paused by the living room door. Mutt rolled his eyes as his mother fussed over Ox, Indy watched the domestic scene with an indulgent smile- and a trace of wistfulness in his eyes.

Mutt has only known Indy for a few months-but they'd been a very intense few months. And his mother had told him a story or two. So he had the sneaking feeling that he was beginning to understand the crazy old guy. _If he wants anything right now, it's to be the man Mom used to think he was. Can't help him there. But.._

Mutt turned and clapped Indy on the shoulder. "Y'know, Pops" he said lightly. "Ox isn't gonna rest if the two of you are up shootin' the shit about the glory days. And I could use a hand moosin' that food around. Wanna drive into town and help me?"

Indy 's grin was the real thing, this time, but "Yeah, OK" was all he said.

An hour later, Marion's big Buick wagon braked to an easy stop in the alley behind the restaurant. Mutt and Indy crunched over packed gray snow to the back door-where an orange-striped cat feasted on a plate of scraps. When he heard their voices, the tom, started, arched his back, and leaped atop a garbage can. He sat and glared at his fellow adventurers before returning to his meal.

Indy smiled. "That guy's pretty tame for an alley cat. Your mother feeds 'em, doesn't she?"

"Yep-feeds 'em all." Mutt answered. "Mom does expect a certain amount of dead rats for her trouble, though."

"Bet she does. And I wouldn't want her any other way."

They stepped down from the threshold to the tidy kitchen where they'd washed dishes the night before. Mutt opened the walk-in refrigerator and started taking out trays of sliced meats, cheese, and appetizers, all shrouded in that new invention, Saran Wrap.

This won't take a minute, Daddy-O," he said as he set them on the prep counter. "I know what to pull, then we can ferry them out to the car."

Indy regarded the neatly tagged trays with suspicion. "Um, kid, there's a helluva lot of food here. Are you sure this is all for us?"

Mutt paused, looked at his father, and started to chuckle.

"Mom's been holding out on you, hasn't she? Damn! This isn't a neighborhood potluck, Pops, it's a wing-ding- the wing ding of all wing-dings. Technically it's The Ox's Christmas party but everyone knows my mother really puts it on."

Indy sighed glumly. His plan for Christmas night had leaned more toward a stroll through the snow, maybe a ride downtown to see the lights, followed by a drink by the fire and a chance to take out that blue box with a ring in it…

"Well, shit" he said. "Thought I was ditching faculty parties when I cut the hell out of Bedford. No such luck, I see. So-how many faculty and how much party are we talkin'?"

Mutt handed Indy a platter of cheese and a tray of bacon-wrapped scallops.

" Here. Take these and I'll fill you in while we load."

"There's about 5-6 hours of party" Mutt said as he started for the car, "people just come and go There's appetizers, as you can see, a bar, a big buffet-all kinds of food, some of Ox's foreign students bring special dishes,-which is actually pretty cool unless you find you're eating eels or something, music….,"

"_Hmmm_" said Indy, who had been envisioning neighbors dropping by with covered dishes.

"And there's a lot of faculty. Plenty of the single or divorced prof-types make the scene and some of Ox's friends with families stop by with their kids."

'Doesn't sound like much fun for you."

"Yeah, well, me and a couple of the guys get prepped out and help serve for the first couple hours."

Indy raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You, Junior?"

"Hey, I clean up good-Tina says so! But when the crowd thins we go hang out in the rec room downstairs. Play some ping pong, shoot some pool, spin a few records, have a keg…."

Indy frowned. "A keg? Aren't you fellas underage?"

"Oh, c'mon, Dad, don't be such a _prof_. Now that we're all outta high school nobody cares. Besides, even _Dave's_ dad says that a guy who's old enough to moose a rifle through Korea is old enough to have a beer stateside."

"He's got a point there" Indy agreed.

"Yeah, and don't tell me _you_ were drinkin' nothin but soda pop when you were in the war.. Besides, everybody trusts Mom. If some guy does get too lit, she just takes his keys and lets him sleep it off."

"Sounds like a lot more fun than your average faculty party. Well, except for the music."

"Oh yeah, definitely. Come down and have a beer if you get bored with the eggheads."

Mutt paused and licked his lips.

"But speaking of eggheads-you know Frankenstein's invited, right?"

"Frankenstein? Little late for Halloween, kid."

"Sorry, that's my special pet name for Dr. Franklin Pierce Thompson, cultural anthropologist and shithead extraordinaire. He's, um, the guy you asked me about last night."

"I met him," Indy said sourly.

Loading done, Indy and Mutt slammed the tailgate shut and got back in the car. They clapped their gloved hands together while Mutt warmed up the engine.

"When we get home" Indy said, "your mother better tell whatever poor SOB is doing your security that she's expecting a lot of company."

"I actually talked to Stan the Man before," Mutt cleared his throat meaningfully "you two got up. He knows. Speaking of which…."

Mutt folded his hands on the steering wheel and looked at his father .

"That trick you and mom pulled to flush those guys out last night was pretty slick. But now we've got a problem."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"Guys talk-and girls are worse. And once Dave and Vinny get up, they'll talk to their sisters. Then their sisters are gonna talk to their mothers, and their mothers will get on the phone. By tonight half the city of Chicago is gonna be buzzing about how Mary Williams got herself a backdoor man."

"None of their damn business." Indy growled. "Or yours, for that matter."

Mutt smacked the wheel in frustration. "The hell it's not my business! Don't you get it? We're not in some godforsaken backwater anymore, _Dad_. Maybe when Christmas is over, you hop the train and go back to Squaresville. OK, so you go on doing whatever profs do and nobody gives you any grief. But me? I'm still here in Chi-town, and I don't back down from a fight. So _**I'm**_ gonna be passing out a tray of knuckle sandwiches every time some cat thinks he can call my mama a whore." He turned the key and stomped on the gas, hard.

Indy reminded himself firmly that he was the adult here, and took a deep breath.

"Look, Mutt. You don't have to tell me that your mother and I can't go on like this indefinitely. Sooner or later, she's going to have to either marry me or-or let me go. And I had my nose rubbed in the fact that I'm not the only man who's interested in her last night"

Mutt threw the car into gear and snorted. "_Frankenstein?_ Man, you could whip that jerk with one hand tied behind your back. And if you believe Ox, most of his students would be in the cheerin' section."

He glanced at Indy appraisingly. "Y'know, from the way he made tracks last night, I thought you might have told him to get lost."

"I didn't. Dr. Thompson actually took it on himself to tell me to ah, 'get lost'."

"No shit?"

"Nope, none. He wasn't too happy to learn that I'm staying at the house, and that I plan on spending a lot of time with your mother while I'm here. But a couple of tenured professors getting into a brawl over a woman is hardly um, 'becoming to men of our years and station' kid. Not" –Indy grinned – "that I wasn't tempted."

"God, Frankie's such a Nimrod. He's, um, got big plans to shape me up, you know."

"Does he, now? And what makes him think he's got the right to do that?"

"Well," Mutt pulled out of the alley and carefully nosed the loaded station wagon onto a slushy arterial. "He's pretty interested in Mom, you got that, right? And he works with Ox, so Mom thinks we have to be nice to him. Crazy. I think she should tell him to get bent, but she feels sorry for his little girl."

"So anyway, one day in the Faculty Club ol' Frankie-boy started tellin' the Oxman about how things were gonna be after him and Mom got married. He was going on about how he was gonna ship me off to military school while they were on their honeymoon."

"The hell you say!"

"Ox was a trooper, though-fixed his wagon but good."

Indy raised an eyebrow and made an encouraging noise.

"Yeah. He said –and I quote- "I will personally see to it that the boy goes to live with his grandparents in England before anyone so ill suited to raising children is given any authority over him."

"I can just hear him. Good ol' Ox-that mild manner can fool you, but he'll have your back when the chips are down."

"Yeah, in his own way he will. But Ox and me-we've got my mama's back. We've been wondering about your intentions."

"You and the rest of your mother's goddamn fan club." Indy growled.

"So maybe she deserves one. As for me I think you should either marry her or get the hell outa Dodge, Jones. Not like you aren't good at that." Mutt kept his eyes firmly fixed on the road.

Indy drew another deep breath and mentally cursed his younger self. Again.

"Alright, kid. I wish I could say that was uncalled-for. But it's not. I can't tell you whether or not your mother and I will get married. I've made my wishes pretty clear-but it' s up to her to say yes."

Mutt stopped at a light and glanced over at him. "Might help if you asked her."

"I'm planning on it. That necklace wasn't the only piece of jewelry I brought with me. If you go in the guestroom and look in the upper right dresser drawer, you'll find a ring box. But last night wasn't the time, and now I find out that 'm sharing her with half the University of Chicago tonight."

Indy slewed around in his seat so he could look at his son while he spoke. "So if you want me to ask her on Christmas, I'll need a wing man. At some point, help me get a few minutes alone with your mother. I'll take it from there."

"You got it, Daddy-O. Mom runs about the same schedule every year and she serves the roast beef and plum pudding around 7:00. So let's you and me run Operation Foil Frankenstein at 1930 hours- OK?

"OK. Good to have you on my side, Junior" Indy added.

"Well, anything beats Frankie, Pops- maybe even you."

Two identical lopsided grins were exchanged as the car pulled into Marion's driveway.

.


	8. Chapter 8

The roast had gone into the oven and Marion was laying warmers on the buffet tables with Jose Luis when the telephone rang.

_That's odd, we usually call England on boxing day. Maybe Mutt's confused about what to take from the walk-in._. "Hi honey" Marion said into the receiver.

"Merry Christmas to you, Mary" said Dr. Franklin Pierce Thompson, sounding pleased.

Soon, Marion was sitting on the love seat by the living room window, looking at her Christmas tree and twisting the phone cord in her fingers._ What I put up with for you, Ox_, she thought, over the roll of Frank's measured tones.

"Mary, I can scarcely believe what I've been hearing. Have you any idea what people are saying ? The whole town is talking about you and that Jones man."

Marion's foot began to tap. "Oh, really now, Frank? And what might the whole town have to talk about? I'm sure Abigail McFarland rang you up to repeat every bit of it."

This wasn't the response Dr Thompson expected to his assertion of manly authority, but he cleared his throat and carried on nonetheless.. "I won't deny that I've spoken with Abigail this morning- as well as several other concerned parties."

"Several other concerned parties?" Marion snorted. "And who are they, as if I couldn't guess? If your sisters were worried about us, they could have called the house to ask if we were all right."

"Now, Mary, dear,…" Frank had spent some time with Mary Williams, but he had never encountered Marion Ravenwood with her dander up. So he made the mistake of trying to soothe her. "I'm sure Marjorie and Clara meant no harm. They heard about that dreadful business Our Lady Queen of Martyrs on the radio last night. Naturally, they called me, to see if I'd heard from you."

"Wanted the juicy details, did they? Well _fine_- they can entertain their bridge club with_ this_. Tina's father would have died if it hadn't been for my 'wayward son' and Mutt would have been shot if it hadn't been for 'that Jones man'. I would have been glad to tell them so myself."

"I'm sure they didn't want to disturb your Christmas morning."

Marion rolled her eyes, but Frank wasn't there to see it. "And speaking of Christmas morning, where in God's name was Linda while you were spending all that time on the phone? Where is she now- opening her stocking by herself? I would have thought your daughter more important than gossip and prittle-prattle from people with nothing better to do."

Frank sputtered. "How can you say that? Linda is my first concern. She was so looking forward to your Christmas party, as was I. But I am forced to wonder if the moral tone of your household is still suitable for her."

_Oh, if you only knew_… "Why Frank," Marion replied sweetly, "I'm surprised at you… Dr. Oxley has been here the whole time, and I'm sure he would be quite offended to learn that you have a poor opinion of my household's moral tone."

Frank coughed and backpedaled. "I don't- I mean I couldn't- but-don't you see? Mary, it's the _appearance of wrongdoing_ that concerns me. Why, I myself ventured to drop a word in Dr. Jones' ear about the impropriety of his staying under your roof. What would Henry's father say?"

_Something about a bullwhip and your ass, most likely..._

"Dr. Jones and my late husband were friends. He introduced me to Colin, actually, and," Marion finished dryly, "Mutt is named 'Henry' after him."

"Is that so? Well if Dr. Jones is such an old family friend, why haven't I seen him before?"

Marion allowed some of her mother-in-law's British starch to creep into her voice. "Because you're overstepping your bounds, Dr. Thompson, that's why. You are neither my father, nor my husband, nor a member of my family. Who is or is not a guest in my home is none of your concern. And speaking of which, I do have more guests coming in a few hours so I'm afraid I'll have to ring off and finish getting ready for them."

Even Frank had begun to get the idea that he'd gone too far. "Now, now, Mary, let's not say goodbye on bad terms. From what I hear it was an awful scene in the church last night. I'm sure your nerves are still overset , my dear, and that you're not yourself…."

Marion laughed at this-a rich musical laugh that had nothing to do with the respectable war widow who owned a successful business. It came straight from the spirited girl who'd run the toughest bar in Nepal and faced the wrath of God with Indiana Jones by her side.

"Frank," she said when she was through, "I'm _not_ your dear, my nerves are _just fine_, and you have _no idea_ who I am." She rang off.

Marion blew out of few long breaths and went to supervise Jorge and Jose Luis in setting up the bar. But talking to Frank reminded her that she'd better tidy the upstairs bedrooms. If he was right and people were gossiping, she wouldn't put it past some of those faculty wives to snoop.

Indy had actually been pretty thorough about covering their tracks. All she had to do was rumple the carefully made guest bed and move the bottle of scotch to 'Dr. Jones' room' as a sign of masculine occupation. Then, she decided, it was time to bathe and dress for the party. Lupe was due in about an hour to help with the appetizers, and she wanted to leave time for Mutt and the boys to change. Marion ran the tub as hot as she could stand it and slid in.

Images from the last 24 hours unwound like a newsreel behind her closed eyes. Indy's joyful grin when he'd spotted her at the restaurant. Indy at the church, grimly determined, ready to protect their son at any cost. Indy, in her arms, losing himself in the blissful rhythm of lovemaking. Indy, holding her in the sleepy afterglow. ''Got m' baby, "he'd murmured into her ear."Got m'baby back". Indy-h_er _Indy. Except….

_Frank, damn his eyes, has a point. We can't go on like this indefinitely. Sooner or later I'll have to either marry Indy or let him go. _

_I wouldn't have given Frank the time of day if he didn't work with Ox. I tried not to encourage him, but we couldn't afford to alienate him-not while Ox was up for tenure. And if that stuffed shirt thinks he can compete with Indiana Jones…_

_But I was married to someone who could. Colin was one of the finest men to ever draw breath. I loved him-maybe not the way I loved Indy, but then a wife and mother of 30 isn't the same of as girl of 16. And after everything that wonderful man did for me and my boy, is it really fair to his memory that I'm taking up with Indy again_?

Marion turned these thoughts over in her mind while she pinned up her hair and refastened Indy's sapphire around her neck. She pondered, as she adjusted her stockings, and slipped into a black cocktail dress and her festive 'hostess' apron. When she went to her dresser for a pair of earrings she paused, biting her lip. Then she put down her jewelry box and opened the top drawer. She pushed aside the sensible pajamas she wore at home with Mutt and the silk lingerie bought with Indy's appreciation in mind. Slowly, she lifted the scented drawer liner. Underneath rested a black-and white photograph of a handsome man in an RAF flight suit. One arm held his helmet, the other was draped over the nosecone of a Spitfire fighter plane. The aircraft's name, _'Lucky Tuppence'_ was painted on the side, along with a picture of a spinning coin.

_Oh, Colin. My Col and and the plane he named Tuppence, after his special name for me. But she didn't bring you home..._

Clipped to the back of the picture was an envelope, carefully sealed with yellowing cellotape. Inside was a fallen pilot's last letter home. All of the men in Colin's squadron had written such farewells; saved by their commander against the day they flew a mission and never came back.

She'd never opened it. The days after Colin's death had been a blur of grief and frantic busyness-and after all there had been a war on. Marion had been a fire warden and an ambulance driver-and she'd clung to her son and her duty as anchors until the war ended. Then she'd had a move stateside to orchestrate, a boy to raise, and a business to run. But she had to admit there was a little more to it. As long as the envelope was sealed, part of her could pretend that Col was just away- gone on active duty as he'd been so many times. Once she'd read the letter, she'd have to face that he was never coming back. She'd kept the letter to give to Mutt when he turned 21, but something told her to open it now.

Marion's hands trembled, just a little, as she sat at her vanity and carefully slit the envelope with a nail file The thin paper inside carried a whiff of Colin's air base-coffee, cigarette smoke and petrol. It might have been her imagination, but Marion thought she caught a faint trace the aftershave Colin always wore.

_My darling,_ the letter began in Col's businesslike hand, so different from Indy's untidy scrawl.

_If you are reading this, it is because I've embarked on that final flight from which no man returns._

_If I must leave you, I do so hoping that I've done my duty to King and Country and brought no dishonor to my family. And more importantly, I will hope that my life has served our cause. As you once pointed out to me, this War is not a struggle over territory, it is a fight against Evil. And if death is the price I must pay to secure a better world for you, and Henry, and his children yet to come, know that I paid it gladly._

_I must confess I find this parting hard. These last few years together have been the happiest of my life. You have been the sweetest wife a man could ask for, and a wonderful mother to our son. For Henry is our son. Perhaps I was not the man who sired him, but I became his father the day the midwife laid him in my arms. He's all boy, our little lad, and it hasn't always been easy, but it has been a joy to raise him. And it has been my greatest joy to see you come into your own, my Tuppence, and watch you blossom in the happy home and loving family that you should have had all your life._

_I have often wished, my love, that I could undo the wrongs that were done to you by Abner Ravenwood and Henry Jones. But alas, that power is not mine. What I do know is that together we managed to rise above them, which was no mean accomplishment. I am proud of you for it._

_I am proud of Henry as well,- and it is of him that I wish to speak to you now. I know that we've seldom had occasion to discuss Indiana-once your lover, once my friend. But as Henry emerges from babyhood , I can see more and more of his sire's temperament emerging. Our boy is bright, brave, strong-willed and he laughs in the face of danger. Perhaps-with you to raise him-he will become the man that Indiana could have been, had he not been turned loose to raise himself and fight a war before his time._

_But to return to Henry- I fear, my darling, that his strong will and deep attachment to his mother make it unlikely that he will do well with a stepfather. Yet, I don't want you to be lonely for the rest of your life, and I believe there is a man who might understand you both. Should you wish to reach out to Indiana sometime in the future, know that you have my blessing. At the very least, perhaps he should know that his name will not die with him and that he's begotten a son to make any father proud._

_I can picture the expression on your face as you read this–and I am sure you are wondering why this _volte-face_ on my part. My love, I must confess that I have kept a secret from you. Indiana is serving in the American OSS and I met him by chance in London earlier this year. We had a drink together. I admit I felt a certain vindication when I described my wonderful wife, fine son, and happy home to him- though I referred to you as 'Tuppence' or 'Mary'. As the evening went on, Indiana spoke of you-with longing and regret for what he let slip through his fingers. And it occurred to me that in a sense my happiness has come at his cost. Much to my surprise, I find that I would not begrudge him some happiness in turn._

_Darling Tuppence, with this letters I've settled my affairs as best I can. No matter how I left this world, know that I did so with your face in my heart and your name on my lips. As for what may come after-I do not fear it, for I've had my heaven –here with you_

_All my love, always_

_Colin _

_Oh, Col, COl. You were the man who 'd never leave me or betray me-not until the end. My knight in shining armor, you were. I did love you- and I wish I could have loved you as much as you deserved._

Marion- who took a stubborn pride in not being a cryer- laid the letter down, and put her head on her folded arms. She wasn't sure how much later it was when a heavy male hand rested on her back and Indy crouched down beside her.

"What's the matter, baby? Senora Guadalupe just got here, but she said you hadn't come downstairs. Something happen?"

Wordlessly, she raised her tear-stained face.

He picked her up, sat down on the bed, and settled her, firmly, in his lap.

Marion pulled away, a little. "I'm going to get makeup on your shirt" she gulped.

"It's not the only one I brought. You let me hold my baby."

She let herself be comforted while Indy picked up the letter and read it.

"Col, buddy..." he said at last, shaking his head.. "What the hell."

After a while, Marion turned in Indy's arms and looked out the window. "You never told me you met Col during the War," she said.

"Well he never told you 'till now, either," Indy answered reasonably. "He never told me he was married to_ you_, come to that. I don't blame him-it must have been pretty obvious that I still loved you. Maybe he didn't know what would happen if I knew where to find you."

"I don't know what would have happened, either. I still loved you, in a lot of ways, but I loved him, too. And I gave him my promise. Maybe- maybe it's better none of us were put to that test. "

"Yeah," Indy agreed soberly. "Maybe it was. It kills me to say this, sweetheart, but you married a fine man. One of the best."

Marion nodded. "I did. And now I've got a party to give, Dr. Jones."

"So you do." Indy put her down and stood up. "So I'll get a clean shirt, and we'll drink a toast to absent friends. Then you go down and wow 'em."


	9. Chapter 9

Soon lights were lit, food was set out and guests began to arrive. Guests and more guests, with hands full of packages. There were archaeology students, away from home at the holidays, happy to greet their friends and classmates. Some were exchange students carrying foil-covered dishes, fragrant with spices from their home countries. There were faculty families with children, who ran to 'Dr. Ox' for a cookie and a Christmas cracker. Teenagers gathered in chattering groups. Marion, Indy thought, had been telling the truth when they met again, that night by a Russian campfire. She _did_ have a damn good life, at least judging by the number of people flocking to her home.

Indy felt a touch of wistfulness as he watched Marion answer the door. This welcoming house wasn't _their_ home. These people weren't _their_ friends. Marion was giving this party for Ox, and he didn't have a place here. The ring box suddenly weighed heavily in his pocket. Indy headed for the bar to pass the time with Jorge.

He was nursing a double whiskey when, "Canape, Dr. Jones?" said a voice at his ear.

Indy turned to see a freshly-scrubbed, clean shaven young man, carrying a tray of appetizers. His hair, mercifully free of pomade, was neatly combed and he was wearing –good God, it couldn't be– _a tie_, under an impeccably tailored blue blazer. Crisply pressed grey flannel slacks met his shined shoes at the precisely correct breakpoint.

His eyes widened. "Junior?"

"Well, it ain't Howdy Doody," Mutt answered. "Hey- don't look at me like that-you can Prof up when you want to; I can prep out when I need to. Maybe it, y'know, runs in the family."

"So it would seem." Indy risked a little teasing. "This wouldn't have anything to do with that girl who thinks you clean up good, would it?"

Mutt smiled. "Oh you never know, Pops, you never know. But actually, Ox sent me to find you. He's holed up in the den with some of his students and they're arguing about some Stone Age village called Skara Brae. He said you'd be the guy who could settle the question."

Indy slid off the stool. "I might be. I knew Gordon Childe pretty well and I was there… I'll see what I can do."

When they arrived at the den, Mutt gave vent to a very un-preppy epithet. "Son of a bitch," he muttered, and poked his father in the ribs "Lookie who crashed the party."

"Really, Skara Brae can be considered as Northern Pompeii," Dr. Franklin Pierce Thompson intoned. "One has only to imagine the terrified inhabitants, fleeing the storm that buried their homes, scattering their possessions behind them …"

"Ah, forgive me, Frank, here he is", Ox interjected genially. "Henry, my dear fellow, if I recall correctly you were at one of Childe's original digs. Can you shed any light on the question of the abandonment of Skara Brae?"

"Well I know," said Indy, as he pulled up a chair, "that Gordon Childe initially favored the more dramatic interpretation. But if you look closely, there's some site evidence to the contrary. And as time went on, Gordon moved toward the idea that Skara Brae dates back farther than originally thought and may have been abandoned gradually…."

"And on what do you base that interesting observation, Dr. Jones?" Frank interrupted.

Indy smiled. "Personal communication, Dr. Thompson. Gordon Childe and I met as young men in London some years ago. I worked with him at Skara Brae, and we kept up a correspondence until a few months before his death."

Frank cleared his throat, " I see," he said with forced politeness- but his eyes sparked with annoyance.

A circle of rapt, inquisitive students soon gathered around Indy and Ox. Only Mutt noticed Dr. Thompson, glass in hand, drifting toward the periphery of the group.

_That shithead's not looking for a refill. And he's not going to check on his kid, which Mom is probably doing for him anyway. But there's nobody as invisible as a waiter…_

Mutt drifted after him.

Frank seethed as he walked down the hall toward the bar. How dared the Jones man speak to him that way-'Gordon' indeed ! Jones couldn't possibly have been on a first name basis with one of the most renowned men in archaeology-could he? Frank doubted it. Now Jones had had sterling credentials, he'd concede that. But academia was a small world, archaeology was another one.

Frank knew someone who knew someone who knew someone else. He'd ventured to make a few inquiries since Dr. Oxley and lovely Mary had returned from whatever had kept them so long in South America. And he'd heard all rumors that seemed to follow one Henry Jones, Jr. Oh, certainly phrases like 'distinguished' and 'war hero' had been said. But Jones was also associated with other terms, such as 'confirmed bachelor,' 'unsavory companions,' and 'dubious circumstances'. The man obviously had a checkered past-and was simply not good enough for Mary.

Frank touched the square box in his trouser pocket. He was certain that once Mary received a marriage proposal from a man such as himself, the scales would fall from her eyes and Jones would be sent packing. Why, once the ring was on her finger, Mary's affianced husband would have every right to insist that Jones remove to an hotel. Immediately. Frank smiled as he savored that thought.

And of course, Mary would no longer need to work once they were married. She would find ample scope for her talents managing Frank's household, raising his child, and furthering his career. This annual party had certainly elevated Oxley's status with the faculty. Frank saw no reason why such benefits should not accrue to him instead. Now, that wayward boy of Mary's might pose a problem, especially since he was now over 18. Well Frank would just have to put his foot down as a husband should. College or the military would shape 'Mutt' up in a hurry-and Frank had no intentions of supporting him. Oh yes, it was going to be a good Christmas if he could only find Mary in the...

_This cloak and dagger stuff is a lot harder than Indy makes it out to be, _Mutt thought as he trailed his quarry around a merry group singing carols at the piano. Just as he was about to head for the dining room, he was stopped by one of Ox's graduate students.

"Yo, Williams-can I use your phone?"

"Sure, Andy," Mutt answered, "As long as you're not gonna be calling Venezuela or something..."

"No, I just gotta call my roommate."

Mutt led him to the hall table. "Should be a little quieter out here."

Andy dialed the phone and spoke excitedly into the handset.

"Hey Mike? Yeah, I'm at Dr. Ox's party. Listen up, buddy, I don't care how you got dumped, put on your glad rags and get out the door. Once you get here, it's gonna be 'Brenda who?', I swear. Why-because you won't believe who the Ox knows. Only Dr. Jones from Marshall College, man!"

"I shit you not-it's_ Indiana Jones_ himself. And he's taking questions!"

"What? How should _I_ know how long he's gonna be here. But the sooner you get moving the better chance you have to meet him..."

Mutt faded back toward the party. _What the hell- his old man was getting some serious respect in these parts_. _Who knew? Now back to the mission... _ He checked his watch-6:45. _Think like your target... _ If he were Frankenstein, he'd be looking for Mom, trying to make some time with Indy out of the way in the den. And Mom was probably back in the kitchen making sure that the beef came out of the oven in time to rest before Ox carved. Ha! He hadn't been helping at the party for nothin' these last few years.

Mutt walked casually over to the swinging door that led to the kitchen.

Marion snatched her hands out of Frank's clammy grip and wiped them on her apron as the door opened.

"Sweetheart," she said when she saw Mutt's blazing face, "could you get Jose Luis for me, please? I'm afraid I'll need a little help with the platters and we're just about ready to start serving."

Mutt fought back the urge to deck Frankenstein and stepped out the door. _Jose Luis? **Jose Luis?** You've gotta be kidding me. Oh he's a good guy but he's not the man we need right now. _ Mutt set off for the den with a purposeful stride.


	10. Chapter 10

_This hadn't gone according to plan,_ thought Frank. Not according to plan at all. Why, instead of holding out a hand to accept his ring and then kissing him, Mary had given him a sad look.

"No, Frank, I can't," she'd said. "I'm sorry, I hoped it wouldn't come to this. You're a fine man but-that's not the way I feel about you and I've really had no plans to remarry." Indy, Marion thought wickedly, would _die _if he found out how many times she'd given _that_ particular speech.

"But Mary, isn't it time for you to leave the past behind? I understand your respect for your late husband's memory, I'm sure he was a good man.."

"Her late husband-my friend Colin-" interrupted a voice from the doorway "was the **_thousandth man_**-the one who'd go with you to the gallows foot and after. He was a far better man than you'll ever be."

Frank wheeled and faced his rival. " I don't recall anyone inviting you into this private conversation, Jones."

'"That's _Dr. Jones,_ to you, mac" Indy snapped. "And for your information, Marion's _son_ came to get me because he saw you giving her trouble, _Dr_. Thompson." Indy's hand strayed to the spot on his belt where his bullwhip usually rested. "I'd think twice about that if I were you."

Frank frowned. "Marion?"

"Yeah. That's her name-and you don't even know it. Give it up, pal. She's out of your league."

"Out of yours, too."

"Maybe so. But then I realized that a long time ago." Indy bounced on his heels, slightly, and the hands at his sides curled into fists. He looked at Marion.

"I can throw this blowhard's ass out in the snow if you want me to, honey." he offered hopefully.

Frank took as step closer "Is that a threat?"

"No, it's a _promise_ and I-",'

"STOP!"

Marion put her hands on her hips and glared both both her suitors. "If I were still running the first Raven"-she exchanged a meaningful look with Indy- "I'd be telling you boys to take your beef outside. But since we're here I'm telling you right now to stop making idiots of yourselves in my house. We're just getting ready to serve _Christmas dinner_ and"-she finished furiously-"if you don't have enough respect not to fight over me like two dogs with a bone, you both should have some respect for Ox!

She turned to Frank. "You're welcome to stay and eat, Frank. I'm sure Linda would like-"

"I think I'd prefer to leave, thank you, " he answered stiffly. Frank turned on his heel and brushed past Mutt and Jose Luis, who were standing in the door.

"Yeah and don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out" Henry Jones III muttered under his breath. He shot his father a triumphant grin, which he wiped off his face as his mother turned to Indy.

"And as for _you,_ Henry Jones," she said, "please remember I'm not a young girl who needs your protection.I'm a grown woman who take care of herself, thank you very much."

"I know you can" Indy answered. The ghost of a smile curled his lips. "Except when there's a thunderstorm, of course..."

"Oooo...you..._Jones!"_ Words failed Marion, so she turned to her assembled menfolk. "Now for God's sake all of you, stop standing around and start making yourselves useful while I go get Ox. He should be sitting in a chair to carve."

Before he picked up his platter, Jose Luis turned to Indy and slapped him on the back.

"Women!" he said, " I ask you, _compadre,_ who can understand them?"

"Certainly not me, my friend" said Indy answered with a sigh. "Certainly not me."

* * *

The prime rib was meltingly tender, Ox carved with a master's hand and the buffet table groaned under the array of festive dishes laid out upon it. Marion, Indy noted, stayed determindly bright-faced and busy-and out of his reach. So he took his plate and beat a strategic retreat to the knot of archaeology students in the den. Indy was deep in a discussion of the Dead Sea Scrolls when he felt a tug on his arm.

"Wingman reporting in, Daddy-O " said Mutt in his ear. "The mission's running a little behind, but Mom's having dessert and coffee in the living room. There's a nice clear spot by the fireplace and yours truly has put up a sprig of mistletoe."

Indy stood, excused himself from the group, and patted his breast pocket.

"Let's go, son" he said. "You know, kid ," he added on the way, "The first time I propsed to Marion, it was 1926 and we were sitting in my tent on a dig outside Cairo. The second time I took her to Tavern on the Green in New York. The third time we were stranded in the jungle. So far I've racked up two 'yesses', one 'no' and no wedding yet."

"Let's see if we can change that, Pops", said Mutt.

When they arrived at the living room, Mutt motioned for his mother to come over.

"Mom," he said firmly, "Indy has something he's been trying to say to you. And I know you've been busy but it's Christmas and you've got to let him have five minutes.'

He looked at his father affectionately.

Indy put an arm around his beloved and led her over toward the fireplace.

"Marion you know I love you," he began softly. "And I've just got no words for what it means to me to be back in your life. I'll stick around as long as you'll have me, baby. But I don't want to just be your backdoor man. I want to be more than your lover. I want to be your husband, and spend the rest of my life with you. So I'm asking you again, in front of our son,-Marion Ravenwood, love of my life, will you marry me?"

Marion took a deep breath and licked her lips. Indy saw the tiniest shake of her head begin and his heart sank. _Love's a crapshoot, Jones. Looks like you rolled snake eyes this time. _He reached out a finger, to gently touch her cheek. _It's OK if you don't want to_, he meant to say. _I understand_. But what came out instead was "Won't you come to your Indy, Freckle Face? He needs you so."

Marion's eyes filled up, and she made a little sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. She took a step forward or maybe he did, and her arms went around his neck and his arms locked around her. And then her mouth opened sweetly under his, and he was kissing her, kissing her for all he was worth, not caring that they had started to draw an audience.

When they finally came up for air, he kept her snugged tight into his side and tipped up her chin. "So, Bright Eyes, was that a kiss-off or a yes?"

"Indy, you big dope, that was a 'yes'."

"I'm holding you to it, and"-he smiled down at her-"I have something for you. Two somethings, in fact." Indy reached into his pocket and pulled out a small twist of cloth.

"Some years ago "he said softly "a young man, as young men do, fell in love with a girl.  
One day, he went into the nearest big town, which in his case was Cairo, and bought her a ring. But when he came back to give it to her, she was gone, and… he didn't see her again for a very long time." He pressed his lips together briefly. "But he kept the ring, and her picture, to remember her by. He thought he could never love anyone again as much as he'd loved her, you see."

Indy untwisted the silk and shook out a gold circlet inlaid with chips of lapis lazuli as blue as the Egyptian sky-or Marion's eyes.

He put it into Marion's hand, and she smiled "I don't think it will fit, Indy."

He could tell her later that he'd had it sized. "Give me your right hand, and we'll try."

He slid it over the knuckle and down her finger then he raised her hand to his lips.

"Young men," he continued, "are sometimes foolish. I didn't think I could love you more. I was wrong." Indy took the blue box from Tiffany's out of his breast pocket. "Will you wear this for me, too?"

Marion recognized Anna Jones' sapphire from her first engagement ring and her eyes suddenly stung with tears.

Indy saw them and hugged her close. "Yes, it's my mother's stone", he said into her ear, "because she'd want you to have it. But I had it put in a new setting, for a new beginning. Is that all right, honey? If it's not I can go to Cartier's and get you another ring…."

Instead of answering, Marion stood up on her tiptoes and the kissing resumed.

Mutt looked at his oblivious parents and the whispering guests, and decided there was only one thing to do. He cleared his throat.

"Well, everyone," he said "could I have your attention, please? Since, um, you're all here and they're, ah, busy- I guess I have an announcement to make. My mother has just accepted Dr. Jones' proposal of marriage. So how about a hand for Mom and her new fiancé?"

Then he turned to the loving couple and muttered, "Geeze, would you _break it up_, you two? You're _embarrassing_ me in front of my _friends_."

Marion and Indy broke it up and turned, flushed and smiling, to receive the guests' applause.

Later that evening, Indy stood in the foyer, with one arm around Marion's waist, as the last few stragglers said good-night. He kept up a mask of pleasant urbanity, but his eyes shone as he shook hands and accepted congratulations and well-wishes. When the door finally shut, he couldn't resist leaning down for a kiss. _Thirty years, one kid, and a shitload of mileage, but she's still my sweet baby… _He smiled, and let his mind drift to that big soft bed upstairs, and the blue satin negligee that Marion hadn't worn for him yet….

Marion tucked her head onto his shoulder and smiled back tenderly. Then she took his hand, and led him toward the…_kitchen? _

What the_** hell**_?

"Party's over" she said cheerfully, "so I guess it's time for KP."

Marion pushed the swinging door, and Indy discovered a knot of teenagers –well, young adults-congregating near the sink and table.

"Hey!" called Mutt, "come to join in for dish duty?"

Before Indy could speak, a pretty brunette in a plaid skirt and a cashmere sweater put her hands on her hips and planted herself in front of his son.

Her ponytail bounced as she stamped a foot and said "Henry Williams, what is the **matter **with you?"

Mutt looked baffled. "Whaaaa…? What did I do?"

"Look AROUND, you doofus" said the girl. "You've been living in this house since before we all went to eighth grade at St Anthony's! Does it LOOK like a barn?"

"What are you talking about, Frankie, of course it doesn't!"

"Then stop acting like you were raised in one! Your mom and Dr. Jones just got engaged, for Pete's sake, and you want her to do _dishes_?"

The miniature dynamo-who reminded Indy very much of some else he knew- turned her back on Mutt, smiled sunnily, and held out a hand.

I'm forgetting my manners," she said. "How do you do, Dr. Jones, and congratulations. I don't think we've been properly introduced. I'm Francesca Giuliani. Most people call me Frankie Lee."

Indy remembered the very few, very carefully casual things Mutt had let fall about Frankie. And he suddenly realised the significance of all the things his son hadn't said. _That girl from the church is the one he flirts with, but this is the girl who matters, oh, no doubt about it…_

"So," Frankie continued, "why don't you two go relax in the den? There's not all that many dishes and" she shot the assembled group a significant look, "we can police them no problem."

Marion wasn't quite convinced. "Frankie, honey there's dishes all over hell's half acre. I can't leave you kids to clean up by yourselves."

"Of course you can, Mrs. Williams, well I guess I should be saying Mrs. Jones" Frankie answered.

One of the boys put in "That's right ma'am. You know how many of have worked in restaurants; some of us have even worked for you. We'll handle the cleanup just fine."

Frankie favored him with a dazzling smile, and turned briskly to her friends.

"Connie and 'Retta, why don't you start on the glasses, they should get washed first and we all know the boys will drop them. A couple of you guys can scrape the plates and take the scraps out, right? DeeDee, can you and Steve go through the downstairs and look for stray cups and stuff?"

"Why are you sending them, sugar?" Mutt put in "They'll just find a corner and start-

"Shut UP, Williams", snapped another boy, presumably Steve.

Frankie gazed at Mutt with innocent brown eyes. "I thought you could stay and help me, Mutt," she replied sweetly.

Mutt ran a comb through his hair. .

Indy bit his lip to keep the grin from showing. _If young fellas go for women like their mothers, we may be seeing a lot of this one. She's got that kid wrapped around her little finger, and he hasn't got a clue. Or maybe just he likes it, same as his old man…_

The young woman in question was still directing traffic. "Sharon," she said, "there should be some wine left on the bar, why don't you go get a bottle and two glasses? Tommy, you head for the den and put some music on the hi-fi, alright?"

"What kind of music do you want?" Tom wanted to know.

Frankie sighed. "Oh for cryin' out loud, do I have to do _all_ the thinking for you? It's not for _me,_ it's for _them_. So get _parent music-_ you know, Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra…"

"One-way ticket to Squaresville, comin' up." Tom sketched a wave and ducked out.

Indy smiled. "I can't find any fault with your plan, Miss Francesca. So if you'll all excuse us?"

He offered Marion his arm but she didn't take it. "I'll just get them started, Indy…"

Indy's patience was at an end. This could go on all evening, he'd waited long enough, and it was _his goddamn turn. _He judged his moment, shifted his weight, than lunged at Marion and swung her over his shoulder.

The teenagers laughed and whistled. "Way to GO, Daddy-O!" said one of the boys.

"My Dad couldn't do that in a million years" added another.

Mutt rolled his eyes.

Marion addressed the love of her life in firm, yet reasonable tones.

"_Henry Jones. __**Put me down. NOW**__."_

Indy's grin was all mischief. "Make me…"

There was a muffled sound of protest by his ear, but Indy had expected that.

Calmly, he covered his beloved's clenched fist with one big hand. "Tell you what, beautiful," he said. "I'm a reasonable man so I'll give you a choice. You can walk to the den under your own power, or I can carry you. But you're not doing dishes tonight."

Marion inhaled a long-suffering breath, and said "I'll walk."

Indy set her down as though she were a priceless artifact, put an arm around her waist and led her away.

When the den door closed behind them she gave Indy a dangerous look.

"I'll get you for this, Jones," she said.

"Sweetheart, if I'm lucky you will, sometime before tomorrow morning. And I'll love every minute. But" his face softened "this has been a long time coming- can't we just enjoy it now?"

She tipped her head up to look at him. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"I do. Which"-he added-"I mean to be saying to you very soon."

"Oh, Indy..." Marion sighed, and subsided onto the sofa. Indy poked the fire, turned down the lights and poured then both a glass of wine.

As he sat down beside her, the hi-fi clicked and a record dropped down the spindle to the turntable. The tone arm landed, and the cozy room filled with the mellow swing of Count Basie and the smoky silk of Miss Ella Fitzgerald.

_Anyone can wish for all the trinkets in the window  
Some can even buy the things they see  
But the presents that I want _

_You'll never find in any window  
Bring me love and bring it just for me...  
_

Solemnly, they touched their glasses and drank a silent toast. Indy looked down into those eyes. There were so many things he wanted to tell her, that couldn't make it past the lump in his throat. But this, thank God, was Marion. He was pretty sure she understood them anyway.

"Do you remember" he said at last, "Abe's Christmas party when you wore that green dress? And you looked so beautiful and grown-up that I didn't recognize you?"

"Of course I do." She put her head on his shoulder. "You were just back from Paris, and so handsome in your suit and tie. All the girls were looking at you, but I was hoping you'd notice me."

"Notice you? God, did I ever-I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. Do you remember what you said to me?

Marion put down her wine and took her Indy's face in her hands.

"Yes" she said softly, "and I'll even say it again."

"Merry Christmas, Indy. Welcome home."


End file.
